Glory of a Hero
by Spanish Sunrise
Summary: A girl failing history from the future is dropped into the past, the Civil War era, where she meets the dashing Robert Shaw. She joins the 54th regiment as his errand runner, and they develope an instant dislike. But when push comes to shove can love win? Unlikely.
1. Time is Running Out

You will be the death of me.  
- _Time is Running Out_

* * *

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, tapping my foot compulsively against the leg of my desk.

Dying of boredom. Hardly alive. Zombie mode.

My history book was open in front of me, a portrait of Robert G. Shaw staring back at me. It was only six minutes and one...two...three seconds into class and my overly enthusiastic APUSH teacher already had me frustrated to the point that made physical "education" seem appealing. It made me inwardly groan when I remembered that I still had an hour and twenty-three minutes left of slow torture.

Kill me now, spare me this misery.

I was doing some thinking (an action that occurs more often than people seem to think it does), as I watched my unappealingly flabby history teacher prance dramatically in front of the room, droning on and on about Robert Shaw. Oh, excuse me, _Colonel _Robert Shaw. Forgetting his rank is like blasphemy!

What was I doing in an AP class anyway? I should be in study hall, sharpening pencils and practicing group dynamics with all the other burn-outs of tomorrow. What was I doing in this particular first period, besides catching up on sleep and slipping Muse-emanating earphones up my sleeve?

Sing, Matthew Bellamy, sing!

I rolled my eyes when my teacher started wielding a small American Flag in the air and shrunk lower in my seat. Peace, however, never lasts too long, and approximately thirty seconds later, my teacher declared war.

The sharp call of my name brought me out of my thoughts.

"Alexandra Janeiro!" Mrs. Pearl barked. Yeah, her name? So menopause.

I sat up straight and looked over my history book.

"Yeah?" I called to her from the back of the room, where all the bad kids sit. "I go by _Alex_." I hated Alexandra, to me it sounded so vulgar because I was named after Alexander the Great, go figure. About whom, I might add, no acceptable movie was yet made. The latest one was just about how gay he was.

"Eighteen your old young ladies are old enough to _not_ fall asleep in class, especially young ladies that supposedly care about their grades." She smirked like she was just oh-so-clever, and my nerdy classmates snickered around me.

I plastered a smile on my face, hoping desperately that I wasn't grimacing. After all, she who angers you, conquers you, eh?

"With all due respect, ma'am, _this_ particular young lady_ was_ paying attention." I protested. She glared at me.

"Oh?" She smiled, like a cat at a canary. "Then you wouldn't mind answering a question."

That's the zinger moment. Every teenager experienced one of these. It's when you have no idea what the teacher was muttering on about and they call you out of thirty-something other kids to answer their pointless questions.

"Sure." I mumbled, bravado gone.

"When was this brave soldier, Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, may he rest in peace, killed?" She asked, her lips poised in a stony smirk.

Really, rest in peace? The Sign of the Cross would be a nice touch, Pearl.

I smiled at her, but inside I was panicking. Desperately I widened my eyes, thinking I would see more with them, and searched my history book. My mind was roaring. _Quickly! Quickly!_

"Well?" The teacher pressed again, folding her arms over her saggy chest. "We're waiting." She sang.

Cool it, Pearlie.

More snickers from my classmates.

After two more seconds of scanning, my eyes landed on a tiny phrase under his picture. Date of Birth: October 10, 1837 and right next to it, his date of death.

Those who seek shall find.

"July 18, 1863." I replied, triumphantly but just as coyly as she had.

She narrowed her eyes for a brief second. "And how long had this extraordinary young man lived?" She asked huskily.

Creepy.

I glanced down at his picture. She was clearly in love with him. Quickly I did the math in my head.

"He was 25 years old." For a reason I can't understand, I almost choked on my saliva when I realized what I had just said.

I could care less about this guy, but it kind of shocked me that he had died so very young. Satan's Mistress nodded, assigned me extra homework on my 'buddy' Bob Shaw, before going off to condemn another innocent soul.

I muttered words under my breath as I crumpled the sheet of homework she gave me. I was bound to develop anger issues, sitting in her class.

Whatever, I argued. It wasn't my fault that I didn't know his death date, not every one of us can be Civil War geniuses, you know? Frankly, I don't give the slightest care about the guy. He led the 54th regiment, wow, so what? That's about as important as Sarah Palin's political opinions. Why does this woman ask me historical questions _all the time_? She must think I TiVo the History Channel every night, just because my dad is a history dean at Harvard.

What's a regiment, anyway?

I pushed the stupid thoughts out of my mind and stared up at the black board. So Old School, MC Hammer would love it.

But wait a second, was it just my imagination, or did it begin swirling? The room was spinning around me and everything went black.

* * *

Have you ever gotten out of bed and felt a rush in your head and your vision darken and swirl? Yeah, I thought it was one of those, but ten seconds later I opened my eyes only to find myself standing. The scary part was that my skinny jeans, black Converse high-tops, and Vans t-shirt had all been replaced with a soft pink, lacy dress, and a tight whalebone body-cage in which I could barely breathe in.

But another frightening part was that I heard music playing around me, a blend of violins and violas, maybe Mozart, and I knew thatI was definitely not in Kansas anymore. I couldn't believe it; I was in the middle of a large, fancy, old-fashioned room with thick Persian carpets and plaster-carved walls.

Ladies in fancy, lacy dresses swirled around me, fluttering their delicate fans at gentlemen in starched uniforms. For a moment I thought I was interrupting a History Channel movie shoot, and that some Spielberg wannabe would come out and yell at me for ruining their shot.

But there were no cameras, and no microphones. Why would there be? Where was that stupid blackboard and my Go Girl-drinking history teacher? My head was hurting, and I pulled the hair on my scalp.

Oh...my...Lord.

I felt panicked and weak in the knees. I was wobbling, and almost collapsed into my own poofy skirts when a convenient arm swerved around my waist and pulled me up, leading me to a window in the corner of the room, giving me a view of the "driveway" of this large estate.

"Welcome to the Civil War, kid." A boy's voice laughed at me.

It's easier to allow yourself to be angry then scared, so I straightened up and glared into his face, but he only grinned back at me. He was young, maybe just a year older than I was, nineteenish, dressed in the same gentlemanly outfit as the other men, and the same style of shiny black shoes.

He wasn't very tall.

"Who are you?" I demanded, grasping him by the brown-silk lapels of his jacket. "And where is my history book? My school makes us pay for those if we lose them."

The boy smiled tightly into my face, unhooking my fingers from his vintage Hugo Boss.

"My name is Marty, and you are standing in the sitting room of the Shaw residence in Boston, Massachusetts. The year is 1861, the sky is blue, the weather is 82 degrees-" He was mocking me, and I cut him off.

I was always being mocked, and if what he said was true, ("very likely") then I don't have to take this if I wasn't even born yet.

"Why am I here? How did I get here? I don't want to be here!" I whined at him. I must have sounded quiet annoying since he grimaced. Not that I care.

"I'm part of a secret organization, Flux Capacitor Inc. It's named after this catchy piece of machinery which is what makes time travel possible." I tried to stop him but he carried on without a pause. "I'm what you would call a rookie, and I chose _you_ to be the lucky first person under my supervision to go back in time. I picked this particular moment in history because I noticed that you didn't exactly 'leap for joy' when your nice teacher announced that you would be studying about the future colonel, Robert Shaw." He smiled again, but I blinked hard.

"_What_? Are you listening to yourself?" I asked flatly. "If time travel was possible, Einstein would've invented it."

He smiled. Why did he smile so much? "He influenced a friend of mine, actually."

Is this guy for real?

"Get me out of here." I whispered through clenched teeth.

"Sorry, no can do, not until you proved yourself worthy of it." He replied as simply as if we were discussing the 82 degree weather outside.

"_Why!?_" I muttered loudly enough for a few nearby ladies to turn around and flutter their annoying fans at me in shock. Marty smiled nervously at them and grabbed my hand, leading me further away from the. When we were out of their earshot, he released me.

"I'll help you." He persuaded. I wanted to kick him.

"_How?_"

"I'll tell you everything you need to know." He responded, pulling a sleek communicator resembling an iPhone out of his pocket and handing it to me. "You'll be able to contact me with this; just don't use it in public."

I snorted. I was not going to resort to this so easily. "Right."

He was smiling as he calmly slipped the Communicator into some invisible pocket in the many ruffles of my pink skirt. "Speaking of Robert Shaw," He said, glancing down at his pocket watch.

"We weren't speaking of him…"

"He should be appearing any moment now." He stood on his toes and looked over my shoulder. Like I said, he wasn't very tall.

"Why are all these people here?" I asked.

"His parents are throwing a party for him, for coming home safely." His eyes followed a young lady who walked past us. I snapped him back to attention. He can flirt later. "Poor guy, so many very eligible bachelorettes are here, and he doesn't know any of 'em."

Suddenly all conversation was hushed and replaced by a steady applause and flirtatious giggles from the young women. I stood on my tippy toes to see over the heads of people across the room. Their stood a hesitant looking young man, dressed in a Union officer's suit, his brown hair visible under his matching cap, smiling nervously around the room. He was young, and attractive, something about his eyes captivated me. Marty chuckled his annoying laugh behind me. I snapped my head at him.

"What?" I demanded.

He smiled. "Don't get too involved. You're not going to be here forever," He later added, his voice full of pity," and neither is he."

I frowned.

"Who is he?"

"Your favorite Colonel Robert Gould Shaw." He replied with a small smirk. I stared back at the young man, who loosened up a little and was shaking the men's hands, who were slapping him on the back and congratulating him.

"Why is everyone so excited?" I asked.

"He was just promoted to colonel of the future 54th regiment." He explained.

"He looks too young for a colonel." I said.

"He is." Marty told me. "He's 23."

My breath caught in my throat. "But that means he only has two years to live!" I gasped.

Marty nodded solemnly. "Of all the stupid things you will do, make sure you don't tell him that."

I chose to ignore that because fuming took up too much energy when wearing a corset.

Robert was getting closer to us; clearly his destination was the exit.

"The book's portrait doesn't do him justice." I mused at Marty. Robert was much, much more attractive.

I mean, he was tolerable.

Marty ignored my comment. "You're to report at the sign-up for his regiment tomorrow morning at ten."

I blinked. "Question Mark."

"You're joining the army." He said cheerfully.

"I'm fighting?"

He looked a little disgusted. "No, no. Who'd give _you_ a gun? No, you get to follow him around with something resembling a clipboard and run errands for the guy." He explained.

How typically sexist – making me a secretary.

"Yippee." I muttered sarcastically. "If I do this, when can I go home."

"We'll see."

Robert was a few feet away from us now. Moving past the next gentlemen, he shook hands with Marty, and nodded at me, before trying to avoid the gushing, flirtatious, desperate fan girls, and briskly walked outside.

Behind me, Marty sighed.

"Congrats, Alex." He said. "You just shook hands with a legend."

"That was about the corniest thing you could have said just now…"

I turned back but he had vanished.

And just like that, I was alone again.

But for some odd reason, I did not feel lonely. And I was still unsure of why I was taking serious news so easily, for only ten minutes ago, I found out that time travel…

…was possible.


	2. Oh No!

Maybe it is all a test, cause I feel like I'm the worst so I always act like I'm the best.  
- _Oh No!_

* * *

I needed time alone, to soak in what has happened to me in the past thirty minutes, so I stepped outside. I closed my eyes and leaned against a white picket fence. I raked a hand through the updo my hair was in and was glad that the fresh Vctorian breeze was there to steady the overwhelming sense of nausea.

The fog was just beginning to clear out of my head when I felt a disturbance in the force.

The gravel walkway crunched behind me and I spun around.

Robert was standing right behind me. I gasped, and stumbled backwards against the fence.

Evidently I was staring at him like he was an extraterrestrial being, since he looked back at me with a frown therapists reserve for lost causes.

"I apologize, miss, I didn't mean to startle you." He held up his hands and it was obvious that I was not the only one startled.

"Oh, it's alright." I stuttered, trying to ignore that very boyish cuteness about him by preoccuping myself with the beaded stitching on my pink sleeve.

"The noise was bothering you." He smiled slightly, like he was afraid to.

I smiled back."Yes."

He nodded."Me too."

He sighed.

It was an awkward silence that I tried to break. Not the brightest idea for two people that are both socially inept, apparently.

"Congratulations on your colonel...thing." I. Am. An. Idiot.

He raised his eyebrows."I'm not sure I deserve it."

"_I_ think you do." Wait a minute, would that comment be classified as flirtation?

He smiled shyly down at me. "Future colonol, Robert Gould Shaw, at your service, miss." He introduced himself in that soft voice of his, and offered me a mock salute. It seemed to me like it was the most personality he showed all day. He gave a gallant, courtly little bow. "And you are?"

"There you are, Robert!" A slightly slurred voice boomed behind us.

I _knew_ that dude. He was that same guy who seemed so fixated on the - possibly spiked - punch bar. And when I took in that smirking face and wine-bottle-armed hand my suspicions were confirmed.

He stopped shortly, pretending he just noticed me. "And hello to _you_." He winked.

I wrinkled my forehead. A playa in the eighteen hundreds? Oh please."Hi."

He cocked an eyebrow at my response, but said nothing more of it."What's a lovely young lady such as yourself doing at this hermit's house?" He slapped Robert playfully on the back, Robert smiled tightly at him.

He did a fantastical sweep of his arm and bowed low, like I was a queen and he a male courtesan.

Oddly, I found myself wanting to cry at what he said. I wouldn't be at said hermit's house if I had only paid attention in history. A plague upon your house, Marty.

Just then the phone vibrated under one of my many ridiculously lacy skirts. I smiled sheepishly at them, they were obviously surprised to where the barely audible sound came from. I excused my self and went back inside, ducking into the Shaw's enormous, deserted library and answering it. The phone crackled a little, but then I could here Marty's voice loud and clear.

_Wow_, the 1800's have _great_ reception. ATnT could learn a thing or two.

"Well don't just stand there!" He barked."Get moving!"

"You forgot me!" I argued.

"No I didn't, I called, didn't I?" I imagined him shaking his head at that, the way small children do, and crossing his arms condenscendingly. "The whole plague thing, quite rude."

"You can read my mind?" I asked in disbelief.

"Um, no, just your facial expression, like every normal human being." He explained.

"Marty, you are the furthest thing from normal." I replied, wondering if perhaps I muttered that curse out loud, maybe that' why Forbes and Robert were looking at me so oddly. The Communicator's buzz was way too quiet.

I heard an annoyed sigh on the other end.

"Go find him, he should be in the parlor, discussing regiment details with Forbes, his parents, and the governor. Go mingle. Ciao!" I stopped him from hanging up.

"What am I supposed to say!" I demanded. "Are they back inside already?"

"You are so helpless." He muttered."His mom is going to say how much he'll need _assistance_ and _organization_, and you pop in and say that you're just the man for the job. Understood?" I nodded, even though I was sure he couldn't see me.

"Good girl." He said."G'bye." I heard a click and he was gone. Buttface.

I stepped out of the library, walking as best as I could in that torture device known as a 'corset.' Okay, it wasn't _that_ bad, but still. I walked down the hall and back into the ballroom. I tried to get through the still-giggling ladies, some still gushing about Robert. Seriously? The length of their attention span was enviable.

"That Robert is_ so_ dashing." I heard a woman whisper that looked old enough to be his mother.

"He is so _stunningly_ handsome." A chubby, Mrs. Shaw-wannabe girl added.

The third, who was wearing so much face powder it looked painful, giggled in agreement. I rolled my eyes and elbowed my way past them. I didn't have time for this.

Not that I cared or anything.

After much difficulty, I found the parlor thanks be to some girl in a starched uniform.

It wasn't only just Forbes, Robert, the Shaw's and his governorship that gathered, there were several other men and women gathered around a small circle of no-joke V.I.P's.

Forbes was winking at several woman - how improper, they murmured, pretending to be insulted- while Robert just nodded nervously, chewing his bottom lip so hard I worried he might eat it.

"Robert," I heard a woman who (according to all the common sense vested in me) must have been his mother."Darling, I _insist_ that you find someone to help you, Dear."

"Mother, I will be fine." He assured her quietly, firmly and respectfully.

"_Tosh_ darling, you'd loose your head if it wasn't attached to your body." She joined Mr. Shaw, the Governor, and Forbes in a hearty laugh. Robert blushed an ducked his head slightly.

"_Mother_..." He hissed, eyes darting.

"Yes Robert, I agree with your mother, it would be best if you had someone to prepare you clothes, bring you your food, polish your affects...a fine colonel, such as yourself, won't have time to do those little things, you will be too busy overseeing the training of the new recruits." The governor, a kindly-faced man, waved his arm slightly like he was on a podium giving a speech. A creature of habit, most likely.

Robert nodded reluctantly.

"Then it's settled." Another man who posessed an older resemblance to the new colonel rubbed his hands as if he'd been doing some heavy-duty John Deer work."Robert and I should begin searching."

"He'd prefer a woman." Forbes intervened, he meant it as a joke but I took it seriously.

"Excuse me, I mean, pardon me, I mean please excuse my eavesdropping..." Aaargh. I'm just dripping with suave-ness at the moment. "...but I couldn't help but over hear that you were looking for an assistant?" I tried my best to sound formal and fancy, much good it was doing.

"Why, yes my dear, did you have someone in mind?" Robert's father smiled kindly at me, Robert gazed at me curiously, while Forbes shot me another scandalous wink.

"Actually...well...it's me." I nervously twisted the lace on one of my sleeves.

"She's lovely, she'll do just fine." Forbes' voice cut through the silence like scissors.. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Robert actually step on Forbes' foot, and watched him wince.

The governor ignored him.

"You?" He blinked at me."My dear, what would become of you on a battlefield? You would faint. I am not convinced that this sort of ordeal is suitable for an unmarried young lady. What would your parents think?"

"I may look frail, but I am strong, and I promise I don't ever scream." I held up my hand as if giving an oath. "And as for parents, I have none. They...uh...died of the influenza." Somehow "they weren't even concieved yet" did not seem like the best idea to say.

Everyone in our immediate circle simultaneously adjusted their expressions to look like ones of sympathy. I, however, was still smarting at their tragically mislead opinions that being a woman I _must_ be weak. Biggotry.

Robert's mother spoke up first, the only face betraying true emotions. Doubt. "I worry about such an arrangement. Mr. Shaw, what do you think?" She turned to to her husband who was watching me intently.

"I can do many necessary things," I added quickly,"and I'm not afraid of war or blood."

Mr. Shaw smiled fondly at me.

"You make a fine arguement."


	3. God's Gift to Women

Peacock strut. Collar up. Watch him while he fills his cup. Sultry glare. Piercing stare. Practiced in the mirror. Are you feeling the love in the room?  
- _God's Gift to Women_

* * *

Later that evening, as the party was drawing to a close, I found myself awkwardly standing alone in the corner. Nothing out of the ordinary.

My mind kept telling me to 'go mingle', like Marty said, but I felt shy and embarrassed.

It felt so surreal, watching these women as young as I was dance around the room so gracefully. I wondered how they did it. In those unbearible corsets and those idiotic metal skirt-poofing...things.

I refused to move, afraid that if I did, I would trip over my skirt and fall flat on my face. Optimism. It's a motivating thing. It was safe here, and I staked a claim in this spot that would unlikely be surrendered anytime soon.

A few men approached me once in a while, asking me if I was alight or if I would like to dance, but I must have scared them off with my 'bad grammer' AKA modern way of speaking. Frankly, I was sort of glad that they left me alone, though a little surprised at how no one seemed to question my invitation. I wondered vaguely what sort of cross-dimensional strings Marty had to pull to get me here.

Movement in the wide doorway caught my attention. It was Robert and Forbes.

I'll just call him Forbes, it sounds waaay better than Cabot. (Yes, that is a name, I know right?) They we both talking to a group of ladies. Forbes looking confident and flirtatious, and Robert looking as if he'd rather be back at Antietam. I was slowly losing interest when suddenly, Robert took one of the women's hands and kissed it gently. I wondered why it left me feeling so bothered, but I left it alone, mocking the young woman's responsive giggle childishly in my head. Forbes looked up and caught my eye, slightly smirking. I snapped my head away from them so fast I cracked my neck. I was rubbing it when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around. Forbes, showing off his materializing skills. His smirk was mocking, almost immature even. He bowed in exaggeration.

"May I have this dance?" He asked, grinning now.

"No." I replied quickly.

Forbes laughed. "I _insist_."

What was I supposed to do now? How can I tell him I don't dance? Don't people look down on you in the 1800's if you don't waltz? I prayed for something to stop him as he pulled me out onto the dance floor. Maybe I could force a few tears out.

"You looked like you could use a little dancing." His eyes were laughing at me. He obviously understood that I was staring at his best friend. He was spinning me around on the dance floor as I blushed deeply, trying not to step on his foot. I did, a couple of times, and he winced, but still managed to tease me through his pain.

"Sorry." I mumbled.

"So what was it that interested you most, Miss Janiero? I doubt that it was his uniform that attracted your gaze to him." He chuckled softly.

I looked at him sharply. "How did you know my name?"

He frowned in geniune surprise. "That _is_ your name, isn't it. Some fellow named McFly was speaking about you earlier today."

"Marty." I sighed.

Forbes continued. "Your reply is tardy."

"Sir, you are so improper." I growled."I have no idea of what you are speaking of.

I was surprised when he dropped the subject, hoping that it didn't have anything to do with that small, subtle stomp of my foot against his.

Mistakes happened.

"Call me Forbes." He said, voice hoarse.

"Than you must call me Alex." I stepped on his foot,accident, really.

He recovered enough to laugh, or maybe his foot went numb and he couldn't feel it.

"You must have went to the finest dancing school in Boston." He grinned.

I felt his prescense easing its way into my countenance, relaxing me slowly."You have no idea."

There was a tap on Forbes's shoulder, and he released me. Behind him was Robert's mother, a small woman with the same chocolate hair and thoughtful brown eyes as her son's. Forbes raised his eyebrows, and his cocky smirk disappeared. It became a respectful, unemotional smile."Mrs. Shaw." He greeted with a nod.

"Cabot dear, you wouldn't mind if I stole Miss Janiero away for a spell?" She asked. Forbes cringed slightly at the mention of his first name, but bowed nonetheless and walked off, probably on a mission to make another young lady blush. I watched his retreating back and smiled at it, something told me that he would make a great ally, and a good person despite his cocky demeanor.

I turned my attention to Robert's mother. "How can I help you, Mrs. Shaw?"

She frowned slightly, then smiled."Oh, none of that my dear, please, Sarah would do just nicely."

I smiled back at her,"Then I am Alex...andra." It was one thing to say Alex to someone in your generation - sort of - but to her it might seem like a man's name.

She nodded and took my arm, leading me away from the crowd and outside on the patio."I wish you to stay the night with us." She began quickly, like she was afraid I was going to argue with her. "We have more than enough rooms in this house, and since Robert leaves in the morning, I thought that you should be ready too, just as Forbes and Thomas. Would you care to consider the invitation?" She asked.

Naturally, I jumped to it. Where else would I go? Marty was too much of a rookie and didn't even bother to consider that detail."Yes." I replied quickly, hoping that I didn't sound to eager."Thank you."

Her slightly wrinkled face lit up with a beautiful smile."I'm so glad you could join us!" She exclaimed excitedly. "I will have one of our servants prepare you clothes, a room, and a bath immediately. This is so exciting!"

I had to restrain myself from bear-hugging someone else's mother.

* * *

Later that evening, when all of the guests, save for Forbes, had left, I was shown to my room on the second floor by Robert's lively, and friendly sister Susannah."I''m so glad that you could come, even if it is for one night. It is such a pleasure to meet you, and the many people that had come to the party, it can be such a bore to be around my other siblings. Excuse my chatter, I am simply overjoyed to have someone new here."

I smiled at her as she continued to 'chatter' enthusiastically all the way up the stairs.

She led me into a room with royal blue curtains, a dark, hard wood floor, and a white carpet under the large, canopy bed.

"This is your room, I apologize that it is not so grand." She was actually serious.

I looked at her like she was crazy.

"It is more than tolerable." I said finely, raising my chin a little to make it look like I was used to sleeping in bedhalls originally designed for Marie Antoinette.

"Good!" She smiled. "If you get thirsty at night, I had Mary - she's the maid, I saw you speaking to her earlier today - bring up a tea set in the hallway, we always leave it there. Atleast one of us always awakens, ever since we were small children." Her laughter chimed in the empty room."Good night, Alexandra."

"Please call me Alex."

She looked at me with so much warmth that I felt like a long-lost friend."I will."

"Thank you, Susannah, and good night." I smiled at her, and with one last grin, she stepped out of the guest room and shut the door.

* * *

I opened my eyes and yawned. It was still dark and I could see the moonlight cutting through the window and onto the wooden floor, giving it a slight blue, periwinkle tint. I yawned again, my throat felt super dry. I pulled out the sleek communicator that Marty had given me from under my pillow and checked the time.

It was exactly 1:00 am.

I hauled my lazy self out of bed, and stumbled in the darkness looking for the long, white silk and lace dressing robe that Susannah had lent me. Tying it at the waist, I reached for the door and stepped out into the cool, dark hallway. I followed the light of a burning oil lamp at the end of the corridor, where I suspected the promised tea set would be. I reached the end, a small balcony by the stairs overlooking the first floor, that held a small round table with a water pitcher, and tea cups. They were so cute.

I poured some water into a tea cup-as odd as it sounds-and drank it down. The cold water felt good against my burning throat, it was a blissful releif. When I was done, I set the tea cup upside down on the tea...plate?...and smiled. I was reminded of a movie that I had scene with my friends in theaters not too long ago. Alice in Wonderland. I laughed. Glancing at the tea cup I was reminded of the Mad Hatter, Johnny Depp, and I laughed even harder. I quieted down a bit.

"Welcome to the tea party. Want to be my V.I.P? Didn't RSVP, it' okay it's okay!" I sang, but stopped short whn I heard footsteps on the stairst behind me. I spun around with a gasp, paled, and then immediatly reddened. Robert was climbing back up the stairs in his striped pj's, under a royal blue robe. His hair was ruffled, and his eyes were tired.

"Miss Janiero?" He whispered."Are you alright?" He squinted at me strangely. Like an idiot I widened my eyes and reddened.

"Fine."

* * *

"Right." He muttered under his breath, walking away from her down the hallway to his room. He opened the door, and out of courtesy turned around and looked back at her. She was not a particularily head-turning girl, but something about her countenance one could register her as appealing. Right now, however, her eyes were shaped like blue saucers and her mouth was posed in a perfect 'O'.

"Goodnight." He whispered, returning.

"Night." She squeaked.

_'What a strange girl.'_ He thought drowsily, too tired to think of the impropriety of encountering each other in their pajamas.

He closed the door of his room behind himself.


	4. Blue Jeans

Walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn.  
- _Blue Jeans_

* * *

I opened my eyes. The shades were drawn, and it was dark in my room. It must have already been late morning, if I had my way, I would never roll out of bed before noon.

My head pounded and I shut my eyes, ignoring the gentle shaking of my mother next to me.

"Alex." She whispered.

"Five more minutes, Mom." I moaned, covering my face with a fluffy pillow.

"You will be late; I was sent to wake you." She replied. _Why was she talking like that?_

"I had a bad dream." I told her, my voice slightly muffled by the pillow. It smelled weird. "I dreamed I was in a ball room, surrounded by Civil War soldiers, and I was wearing a...a…_corset_. I guess that's what you get for waking up in Vegas." I chuckled at my own joke. I'm just so funny.

"Vegas?" She repeated. "Alex what are you speaking of? Are you alright? It's quite normal to where a corset, you know."

I opened my eyes and tried to look at her, but all I could see was her silhouette. Still half asleep I managed to smirk at her, "Right."

"Well, your nightmare is over now." She said dismissively, managing to sound cheerful at the same time. "You are safe and sound in the Shaw Residence of 1861 Boston, Massachusetts."

That made me sit up in bed so fast I hit my head against the bed post, don't ask how, it's a secret known only to the village idiots. I fell out of bed and ran to the nearest window, yanking the heavy drapes to the side. Bright, early morning light streamed into the window, and I shrunk away from it, like Dracula. Everything…_everything_…felt new and different, and yet, like I've seen it all before.

I looked down at myself. First of all, what on earth was I wearing? And second, when I turned to look at my 'mother' I found Susannah smiling back at me, her thick, blonde hair in a pleated braid and a perplexed look in her eyes.

Then I remembered.

We're definitely not in Kansas anymore.

Susannah stood up and grabbed my shoulders, firmly. "Alexandra, are you or are you not in health?" She asked.

"I'm okay." I mumbled.

She arched an eyebrow. I had slipped again. I wasn't sure she knew what that meant."An Italian term I presume? I take it that you are."

I fought a smile. I lost. She grinned back gleefully and produced something from behind her back. It was a uniform. Sort of.

"I apologize for forcing you to wear trousers," she said, "but I thought since you were in Robert's regiment now, it would be easier for you to walk in trousers rather than a gown." She flashed me a dimpled, apology.

"You thought right."

She looked relieved. "I will step out into the hall while you become decent."

I unwrapped the package after she left.

I produced a pair of black pants; they were tight and had the same denim-y material as jeans did. On the back pocket a piece of leather was stitched on with an imprint of "Levi Strauss and Co." I smiled, at least something was familiar. There was also a white T-shirt. I frowned, too futuristic, and a navy blue coat, with silver buttons. But the best part was the navy blue kepi with crossed rifles on the front and a black bill. It was so cool. I wondered if I could bring it with me to the future as I put it on, delicately as if it may shatter or melt away.

Suddenly the Communicator buzzed.

"Yellow?" I said.

"How's it going?" Said Marty's voice from the other end of the line, coming in loud and clear. "Did you like the outfit I picked out for you?" he asked.

"What are you talking about? Susannah..."

He cut me off.

"Where the hell would Susannah get a pair of jeans in the 1860's? The first pair of Levi's was invented on May 20, 1873, or was it the company? Can't remember. Anyway, and do you really think that t-shirts are available in your point of history? Especially figure-hugging one's for chicks? They weren't available in the 80's let alone now! Believe me I should know." He explained. I rolled my eyes, it sounded like he was chewing gum or something.

"But she _brought_ them."

"She_ thinks _she did."

"Whatever." I muttered. This was too complicated to make sense. "What about shoes?" I asked.

"Your Converse will do just fine, shouldn't stick out so much." He replied simply.

"Are you crazy?" I gasped. "Of course they'll 'stick out'."

"Yeah but they won't say anything because they're all too polite" He replied.

"Forbes will." I shot back.

I could_ feel _him shrugging on the other end.

"Whatever. He's an exception. We've got limited funds."

I changed the subject. "I woke up not knowing I was still in a different time era." I sighed.

"I know how that feels, I did that a few times before." He replied.

"How did you get me back in time?" I asked him.

"Something that has to do with light and radiation. Doc's people did it. The DeLorean was overrated." He laughed quietly to himself, like he was thinking about a fond memory.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh you're funny."

"Listen, got to go, over." He clicked the phone off and the line died in my arms.

* * *

Susannah knocked on my door and I tucked the Communicator into my jacket pocket. "Are you ready?" She called in.

"Yes!" I backed out. Stepping out of the room she led me downstairs and into the dining room where the Shaws, along with Forbes, were having breakfast. I chose a seat at the long rectangular table between Forbes and Susannah, with Robert across from me, his eyes rising at me. Sarah Shaw was at one end of the table, and Robert's father, Francis Shaw was seated on the other end. Robert's other sisters, Josephine, Anna, and Ellen were seated in a neat row two on Robert's left, and one on his right. It was pretty awkward, being late for breakfast, especially with my futuristic guy-ish get-up, I looked like a complete nut job.

Sarah Shaw rose from her seat.

"Alexandra, Susannah!" She exclaimed, "good morning my dears." I smiled and thanked her, sitting down next to Forbes.

He leaned into me.

"You look very _splendid_ and _feminine_ this morning." He smirked.

"So do you." I shot back, in a violent little whisper.

He choked back a laugh, and snorted through his nose. Robert frowned, unaware of what we were going on about. "Good morning, Miss Janeiro." He said.

"Alex." I corrected him, pleasantly.

"_Miss Janeiro_." He replied firmly. I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. What was _that_ about?

* * *

After breakfast, the rest of the Shaw family led us outside, Sarah in tears, to say final goodbyes. We met up with Thomas, and he and Forbes and I stood together in a group, watching Mrs. Sarah Shaw hold onto Robert and cry in his arms. Robert awkwardly patted her on the back, glancing at us every so often. He tried to comfort his mother, whispering something in her ear. She drew back and smiled at him through her tear-streaked face, the love and pride that seemed to glow in her eyes and radiate to Robert was beautiful.

I wanted someone to look at me like that someday.

"I'm so proud of you." She told him.

He slid a foot in the stirrups of his reddish-brown horse, and swung a leg over its side. He looked heroic, seated atop the saddle, and for the first time I seen him, he fit in with the history books.

He made my eyes burn.


	5. Everybody Loves Me

Hope I'm rememberd for all the things that I never made  
- _Everybody Loves Me_

* * *

The ride was...awkward, to say the least.

Robert and Thomas occasionally talked amongst themselves, Robert completely ignoring me. I was actually glad to have Forbes, even with his teasing; he remedied the awkwardness that I felt by being someone I could argue...er..._talk_ with, instead of just being a loner. But to be perfectly honest, he was a pretty cool person…when he wanted to be.

When we arrived, there was a signup sheet already set up, with a butter-colored banner hung over a table of military officers, saying _"To Arms All Men of Honor"_ in bold black letters. Robert stationed Forbes and me against the table, and as soon as he turned around, climbing back on his horse, Forbes pulled out a cigar and lit it, jamming it into the side of his mouth.

We must have stood in the same place for about forty-five minutes, in silence, watching Robert salute and talk to the other lower-rank officers. Forbes rolled his eyes every now and then and sighed a lot. Finally, just as the recruits began showing up, he grunted in frustration and pulled out his pocket watch.

"Jesus what time is it?" He muttered. Apparently, the time did not please him, since he swore and jammed the watch back into his pocket.

"What?" I couldn't help but ask.

He raised an eyebrow at me, and took his cigar out of his mouth. "She speaks."

I rolled my eyes. "Amazing isn't it?"

He laughed. "Look at Robert." He nodded in his direction and I saw what he was talking about. Robert was still sitting on his horse, observing the new recruits that were showing up. His eyes were calculating, and he bit his lip every so often. "You'd think he's up to something?" Forbes asked me. "You can see his mind whirring full speed ahead."

He turned to face me, and I could see his smirk. He did a small imitation of Robert, narrowing his eyes and walking around me, as if inspecting me.

When he was done, I laughed and he chuckled. "He probably is."

We kept watching Robert, together, again in silence. When the drummer boys assembled, Forbes, as if on cue, probably was, yelled. "Present ARMS!"

I jumped, shooting him a look of disgruntled irritation to being so abruptly yanked out of my thoughts. He didn't notice.

At that moment Robert began walking around the group of African-American recruits, his eyes slightly narrowed, just as Forbes did when he made fun of his best friend. Robert remained silent even as the recruits shouted question at him, staring at him expectantly.

"How do we look Colonel?" One of the 'negro' recruits asked him. "We gwine whoop the Secess'?"

Another called out, "Hey Boss! When do we get the blue suit?"

Robert still said nothing, merely rode on.

"Yeah, the blue suit." It echoed from voice to voice, rippling through the crowd.

The only persona that Robert even slightly acknowledged was Thomas, who gave him a huge grin, spreading from ear to ear. Robert glanced back at him, seeming to suppress a smile, as if the two shared some kind of an inside joke that I didn't understand.

"Ready to whip them Rebs!" A man shouted.

"When are we gwine get to fight?" Another asked.

But the question that they all really cared about the most, _was_, "_Are we really gonna get to fight this time?"_

Suddenly Robert paused for a minute when he saw a tall, wrinkle-face black man with grey hair showing from under his hat and on his chin. The old man nodded at him, leaning on his side. Robert nodded back, slowly, before continuing on. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Forbes trying to get my attention. I looked at him, and he twisted his expression into one of pride, and stuck his nose into the air, before imitating Robert's slow nod. I snorted, jeez I can't even laugh normally, and he laughed even louder. We meant no disrespect for _dear_ Robert, we were just having fun. Suddenly, Robert's eyes snapped into our direction and he rode over to us.

His look was serious, slightly scolding. But he saluted us anyway, we returned it. "Morning." He said, as if seeing us for the first time.

Forbes leaned back casually, squinting in the breaking dawn. "Morning."

"Hi." I murmured, looking down at my shoes.

Robert scowled at us.

"I would appreciate if you two would remain serious on the job. This is the army, how can I expect to keep the men at attention if even my officers fail to do so?" He stared at Forbes accusingly, and glanced back at me occasionally.

I swallowed. Ouch.

Forbes seemed to have a nasty comeback in his mouth, but he thought better of it and bit his tongue, looking straight ahead. Robert seemed content with our responses and was just about to ride away when Forbes suddenly yelled. "ATTENTION!"

Just like the last time he'd randomly shouted, tt was so sharp, loud, sudden, that I jumped. My foot caught against the table leg, and I tripped, falling off of the podium and on to the ground, my face flat in the dirt.

_"Oh my God, oh my God." _I thought. I couldn't see anything but I could still hear the astonished voices of officers and recruits talking about me. Please let this be a dream, please. I tried to convince myself, biting my lip, so that I would wake up. I bit it so hard it began to bleed, and the only response that I received for that was the sound of Robert's voice.

"Major Forbes." He called out. "If you please."

"Yes sir." Forbes' response was high, as if he were desperately trying to hold in a laugh. I felt the ground _thud_ as Forbes jumped off the podium and landed on his feet on the ground next to me. He pulled me off of the ground, making sure I was standing. I stared at him, his expression was pained and his eyes were a bit watery, as if he was ready to burst out laughing any second.

"Are...you ...alright?" His question was broken and whispery, as if he were laughing and talking at the same time. I blinked, my face hot, and glanced down at his waist where his Colt Revolver rested securely in the gun belt. Suddenly it was starting to look real friendly.

"I trust that you are alright, Miss Janeiro." Robert said to me from his horse. He looked as if he had already regretted my existence. With a grunt he quickly cleared it away, and turned his attention on the laughing recruits. I looked back at Forbes again, who was still fighting a smile, and stepped on his foot.

"Go ahead and laugh." I started to climb back up the podium.

He winced, "maybe I will." I thought I heard him say, the next time I looked at him, he was chuckling softly.

With another "ATTENTION!" that I so gracefully prepared myself for - by jerking back to the poor officer behind me – Forbes calmed the recruits and Robert was finally able to speak.

I watched Robert take a deep, shaky breath. "Good Morning, Gentlemen." He began awkwardly. "I am Colonel Robert Gould Shaw."

"_No_." Forbes muttered sarcastically, trying to make me laugh.

Robert's eyes searched the crowd for an encouragement to speak on, but he received none. "I am your commanding officer." The men's faces went from black, to bemused.

_"Commanding officer."_ Forbes mimicked quietly, I guessed he was trying to cheer me up. "He was never really good at this, it's pretty hard to make something inspiring in the spur of the moment. He should have let someone else do it. I told him to write a speech, but what did he say? _Noooo _I'll be fine. I see how fine you are." He said in a sharp little whisper.

I smiled, my face still tomato-red from the incident, but it was pretty obvious that the two had been friends since the dawn of man.

I watched Robert awkwardly lick his lips. "It is a great pleasure to see you all here today." Still no crowd reaction, except for a small encouraging smile from Thomas. "It is my hope, that the same courage, spirit, and honor, that has brought us here together..." He grew more and more confident with each word, building his momentum."...will one day restore this Union!" With a a final burst of confidence, he added..."May _God_ bless us _all_!"

Finally, a crowd reaction, they all burst in cheers and applause. Robert smiled, triumphantly. Forbes was surprised. "I was wrong." He admitted. He sounded impressed.

"Form companies?" The officer I had run into reminded Robert.

Robert pulled himself together, his smile gone again. "We will commence with forming companies!"

"It's been a pleasure." Forbes bowed suddenly at me, with a wink, then spun around. He spoke through his cigar at the people. "Company officers take charge!" He ordered, and the lower-rank officers sped to the crowd of recruits, shouting orders.

Forbes continued. "You recruits will report to your respective officers by letter of your company in alphabetical order, which is in the top left corner..." He picked up a sheet and pointed at it,"...of your muster sheet."

Chaos ensued.

Men weaved in and out of the crowd, scrambling in every direction, officers barking orders, recruits shouting at each other. I saw Robert look up at the sky, with an "Oh God how am I going to pull this off?" expression on his face. He looked like he was having second thoughts about all of this, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand. I felt sorry for the guy. I admit, this was going to be tough, and I did not envy him. I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it looks hard Robert, but I know you can do it." I knew that I would feel like kicking myself later, for saying something so stupid and corny, but it was the best I could do. Robert jerked back, I must have startled him, that or he didn't want my germs on his jacket. I'll hope it was the first choice.

He smiled slightly but then scowled, before straightening his face into a blank, unreadable expression. "Miss Janeiro-"

"-You can call me Alex-"

He seemed impatient_. "Miss _Janeiro," He said. "As your commanding officer, you will refer to me as 'Colonel Shaw' or 'Sir', do you understand?"

My face burned."Yessir."

"Furthermore, your relationship between Major Forbes and myself must be strictly formal. I will not permit any kind of fraternization. Is that clear?" His eyes searched me. I felt like an idiot, and with my outfit I probably looked like one too.

I nodded, feeling bloated and conspicuous, like a big awkward whale.

He smiled humorlessly. "Good." He then turned around and started to shout orders at Forbes and the rest of the officers, while I stood in the back and sulked.

Drowning in the mental excess of my own humiliation.


	6. Keep Your Eyes Down

Well the sun is shining but it don't feel good  
It don't smile down on this neighborhood  
And when I go walking through this stinking town  
Mister I keep my eyes down  
- _Keep Your Eyes Down_

* * *

After a about another hour of chaos and misery, the officers finally got the troops in array and all the much-despised-yet-necessary paperwork filled out. Each soldier was put in their letter company and lined up in alphabetical order.

Finally pleased with the rough looking marching rows, the perfectionist-prone Robert climbed back up on his horse and sat stiffly, signaling for Forbes to give the command to move out.

I was positioned not too far from them, on the very outside of a marching row, a few yards down from Robert, who rode his proud brown horse with impressive grace and ease. I glanced back over my shoulder, and saw Forbes on his horse, at least a hundred feet away from me, watching the men to make sure they all stayed in line.

"Good book, Brother?" Said the young man next to me.

I frowned, I know that wearing pants is considered cross-dressing in this time, but honestly, did I really look _that_ masculine?

"_Excuse_ me?"

The kid was slightly taller than I was, with a round, flat-ish face and a tan-colored cap on his head. Turns out, he _wasn't_ talking to me.

"Yes, it is, actually." Came Thomas's voice from his other side, I saw him tuck a red book under his arm."Name's Searles. Thomas Searles."

"Jupiter Sharts." The other guy said, shaking Thomas' hand without taking his eyes off of Thomas' encyclopedia-thick book. _Jupiter?_

Thomas noticed, and his face lit up at Jupiter's apparent interest.

"It's a collection of essays...Fourier, Emerson..." with each name, poor Jupiter looked more and more confused, as I'm sure did I, twisting my face as I tried to remember where I heard all those names before. Nerd. Thomas probably read the dictionary on rainy days. "...all of the transcendentalists."

Jupiter nodded as if he knew what Thomas was talking about."It got pictures?"

I smiled, still staring straight ahead, and heard Thomas chuckle."No."

"You teach me?" The obvious hope in Jupiter's voice was deeply endearing.

"Yes, I'd be happy to." I caught Thomas' reply before tuning him out.

I felt like someone was staring at me. I hate that feeling. Why won't it go away? I glanced back behind me again, Forbes did not see me, he seemed to be engrossed in a conversation with one of the young minor officers, Charles, I believed his name was. I looked forward; Robert was in front of me, not even faced in my direction. Who - ?

Suddenly I felt a sharp poke in my back and I yelped, before spinning around to look behind me. A group of tough-looking men were 'marching' behind me. When I glared at one of them suspiciously, he only grinned. I turned back around and felt the poke again. I snapped my head back at him, and glared some more, but he only burst out laughing.

"Stop." I muttered.

"_Stop_." He mocked my voice. The two men on each side of him laughed at his response.

Really? Act your age!

I snapped my eyes back to the front.

"Y-you don't like it?" Jupiter asked shyly, next to me. I stared at him. What kind of a question was that?

"No." I muttered. Quite frankly, I was ticked off and annoyed.

The guy poked me again. I tried counting to ten, but that was it. I stood in place, letting the men shout and march by me, as rows and rows of men did the same thing; I waited to the very end, before positioning myself into the last marching row.

Forbes gave me a strange look when he noticed me, as if wondering how I just appeared out of nowhere."How-"

"Don't ask." I replied.

He gave a lazy shrug.

We marched on for about another mile, with me quietly humming along to the marching music that the drummer boys were making way up front. It was catchy. Until finally we were making our way into Camp Reedville, on November 27, 1862, according to the text Marty sent me on the Communicator. Forbes seemed to slouch with relief.

Whatever. Everybody's tired, except the rest of us _walked_, while a few people, who will remain unnamed, _rode_.

We passed by another regiment of Union soldiers, all in fancy navy uniforms, while the 54th was in re-sewn cotton sacks and barefoot. The other regiment's soldiers were sprawled out on each side, sitting and staring at us with amusement, as if we were zoo animals on parade.

"Look at what's walking in here!" One of the soldiers shouted.

Curiously, I squinted ahead at Robert. His mouth formed a tight thin line, but he held his head high and pretended that he did not hear those men.

"Getting dark mighty early round here!" Another shouted.

Robert narrowed his eyes slightly, but other than that, still kept a straight face, riding on in a dignified manner.

"I'd rather have a hog than a nigger!" I saw Jupiter, Thomas, the old man, and the guy who tormented me turn around and stare at them, along with other members of the 54th.

"At least you could eat the hog!" The other soldiers burst out laughing.

I saw Forbes grip his horse's reins tighter and clench his jaw. I was surprised to see him care so much.

"Look, they even got their little lady in breaches." One shouted. I turned red, as some men looked back at me.

"Yep! Everyone would rather be a man!" Another added. "A _real, _white man."

I stopped in my tracks and spun around. That was it. Cousin-marrying, chauvinistic, mouth-breather. I could have a pretty nasty temper if I wanted to, but pretty sucky comebacks to go with it.

So I said what came naturally, one of the most popular comebacks among high school boys."So does your mom!" I shouted with an almost patriotic zeal...then ducked like a traitor.

I saw Robert go rigid for a second, then spin around on his saddle at an alarming rate. He must have heard the shout but wondered who it came from. Ain't no way he missed that. Forbes noticed Robert too, and reached out and grabbed my upper arm, frantically yanking me back into line. Robert was looking at an entirely different direction, and didn't notice our skirmish.

"Are you mad?" Forbes hissed.

_Getting there_. "Not according to my therapist." I sighed. I kept doing stupid things; maybe all this century-jumping was having an effect on my intelligence, my I.Q. was dropping by the second.

"If Robert heard you he would have buried you alive." He grinned darkly. "You would have never heard the end of his wrath."

"No he wouldn't have." I replied."Besides, why would he care?"

"According to him, a good soldier can keep his mouth shut and his eyes down." He recited.

I snorted."That's the kind of stuff they used to teach us in kindergarten. No arguing."

"Kindergarten?" He repeated, chewing on the word.

"It's...er...a finishing school in Maine." I added quickly. He stared at me with a strange expression, a smile and a frown at the same time.

"Apparently you never attended." He replied, before the other corner of his mouth turned up, completing the smile.


	7. Pushover

**smartyjonescrzy**: You're so lucky to be horse riding! I have tried reading it too, actually, exccept I never even got past the cover. ;D Thanks for the Charlie thing, I will definetely include him more, but I was surprised that anyone even noticed that. The jeering troops thing, I imagine that Alex will have a lot of trouble fitting in. ;) Thanks again.

**High Queen Crystal**: Hope you feel better. Get well soon.

**sophiforbes**: lol thanks so much! I really like Forbes because he seems so funny and fun. I think I know what you mean, that I'm including just the right amount of Rob's character, not too much and not too little. :) Thanks again.

**YarisVamp**: I'm surprised people liked that part, lol. Thanks! Luv your avatar, by the way.

* * *

**See if you recognize anything from Back to the Future. ;)**

When we had finally arrived to camp, more chaos followed as officers frantically tried to assemble the men into their proper tents and tent buddies. After the hardest was done, and the men's small collection of personal things were stowed away under their sleeping mattresses, they were all summoned to the mess hall for lunch. I, along with several other officers, were unpacking our possessions, in a big long wooden building with a tan colored flap in the doorway on one end that separated us from Robert's personal quarters. When I approached my bunk there was a small note tucked into the pillow, I pulled it out and read it. It was from Marty.

_Look under the bed. -Marty_

I did, and I found a duffel bag filled with futuristic items. There was a toothbrush, a hairbrush, a pair of Nike shoes, another pair of skinny jeans, the exact same style and color of the ones I'm wearing right now, and the same white t-shirt that was wearing. Among other things, here was also a glass bottle of Coke, I have no idea why. Weird, but hey, whatever...thanks. I heard a shuffling behind me and a thump on the squeaky bunk next to me. I turned around, Forbes was standing behind me with Charlie Morris, unbuttoning his collar slightly. He yanked off his blue kepi and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. I could already tell that sleeping with a bunch of guys in one room was going to be really awkward. I did not look forward to it. Maybe I could get the guard every night and live off of large doses of caffeine. Uh...no.

"Alex!" Forbes said, when he noticed me staring at him."Have you met Charlie?"

I shook my head no.

"No?" Forbes repeated, frowning. He shrugged and turned to a shorter young man with dark curly hair that was standing next to him."Charlie, I'd like to introduce Alexandra. Alex, Charlie." he bent over to shuffle in bag as I reached for Charlie's hand and shook it.

"My pleasure." he smiled shyly.

"Hey." I replied. Crap. Why do I keep slipping? He pretended not to hear me. How thoughtful. Forbes, on the other hand, snorted.

"Charlie, you are bound to soon notice that Miss Janiero is quiet a young lady." I smacked him on the arm and he started laughing harder.

"I don't understand Forbes, why is that funny?" Charlie was clearly confused, and that made it all the funnier.

"The podium scenerio was brilliant." Forbes joked."I have wanted to laugh about that ever since it happened." He was laughing hard, and so was I, finally Charlie joined in. Forbes had to sit down for fear of toppling over.

"What is the meaning of this?" a loud, commanding voice came from the end of the cabin-like building. We stopped laughing ubruptly and turned around to see Robert leaning in the doorway, holding a stack of envelopes in his gloved hand. Forbes immediately put his hat back on and stood up straight, silent and presentable. Charlie was also silent, with the type of expression on his face that a kid wears when he was caught doing something wrong.

"I've had men looking everywhere for the three of you." Robert continued, folding his arms."Is this where you were the whole time? Loitering?" All three of us looked down at our feet. It was as if we were kids and Rob was our parental unit.

"We weren't loitering." I mumbled.

Shaw leaned in and squinted at me.''What was that, Miss Janiero?"

I saw Forbes shoot me a 'shut-up' look, and I bit my tongue. I doubt I would have said anything even without his warning. Robert had transformed since the last time saw him. He was not the sweet, funny guy that I had talked to for the first time at his party, now he was, lets face it, scary. Scary, but cute. But I can't think about that right now.

After waiting for my reply, seeing that he wasn't getting one, Robert leaned back and sighed."Major and Charlie, I will see you in the mess hall in a few minutes," he added in a softer tone,"help the others control those soldiers"

"Yes Sir!" they both muttered, they looked at me apologetically aka the 'you're gonna get it' look, and walked past Robert and out the door. Robert waited until they were out of sight before he approached me. He stood in front of me looking down into my face. He produced the stack of envelops that I noticed earlier and handed them all to me.

"Miss Janiero." he began."These are all letters from me to my family, and one for the quartermaster. Please see to it that they get to the post office in town." he explained, slowly as if he was talking to an ignorant child. To him, I probably was. That's a damper.

I nodded up at him

"_Now_." he added.

"Now?" I squeaked, it was going to get dark outside, and it made me nervous. He recognized my expression, probably because he had seen it before on one of his little sisters, and I could have sworn his eyes softened a little.

"I will send a few men to go with you." he added, reassuringly. "Please meet them outside in a few minutes." With that, he turned and started for the door. Then he stopped and turned around."Oh and one more thing. Have you heard one of the men shout something at the other soldiers when we were marching into camp. A vulgar, 'your mom', I believe it was?"

I swallowed hard and my face paled. I shook my head. His eyes appeared to be smirking. It was obvious that he knew who it was."If you ever find out who it was, please let me know." in other words it was, if you ever want to come admit it so that I could spend the afternoon lecturing you, feel free. Then he turned around and walked outside. I shook my head and sighed, that was a little...interesting. Weird. I put on my navy blue kepi before I stepped outside and jogged towards the front where the soldiers were supposed to be waiting for me.

They were. It was Thomas, Jupiter, the old man Robert had nodded to, and-oh god no. It was one of the soldiers who tormented me. He seemed to be tormenting Thomas now. "Well then why don't move your free black ass out of my way?" I heard him say. I tucked the envelopes awkwardly under my arm. I knew Robert was trying to help but he just made it worse. I took a deep breath, and approached him.

"Ready to go?" I asked a little too cheerfully.

"Well look who it is!" the man turned his attention to me now. Thomas seemed relieved.

"Quiet Trip." the old man warned him.

"Nigger, no one asked you!" Trip replied. My walking became slower as I came up to them, my feet felt like lead.

"We have to deliver these..." I mumbled.

"We all know that without you." Trip snapped. He tugged on the stack of envelopes in my hands, I hold on to them tightly. He stared frustratingly at me, daring me to try again. I tugged hard and he released them, sending me falling to the ground with the envelopes fluttering around me. That was mean and embarrassing. I sniffed and pulled myself up.

"Stop it son! Stop it!" the old man scolded him. Trip rolled his eyes and let out a disgusted sigh. He put a hand on my shoulder."Rawlins here, you alright child?"

I nodded, glancing at the envelopes all over the ground. The others looked down also, and finally noticed my Converse."Hey! Look out them moccasins, what kind of skins is them?" Sharts exclaimed. Thomas actually bent over to examine them.

"What's the stars on them sides? Is that some kind of Injun sign?" Trip squinted at them, but I know he was making fun of them.

"No, I believe that the stars might have something to do with the Union Army, though it says Converse All-Star around it." Thomas added.

"What do it mean, chile?" Rawlins asked me.

"N-nothing." I replied, frantically picking up the envelopes one by one."It's getting dark. We'd better get going."

They nodded, except for Trip of course, and started to walk into town. We walked most of the way in silence, until Jupiter spoke up."I wonder when they gonna give us the blue suit." he said suddenly.

"Us niggers, them blue suits for the white soldiers." Trip told him bitterly.

"Well, we soldiers now." Sharts protested. He had a point.

Trip looked at him, with the tiniest of smiles on his mouth."Where you from, field hand?"

"S-South Carolina." Jupiter replied, proudly.

"South Carolina? Well then you should know better than that boy!" Trip effortlessly burst his bubble.

I saw Rawlins pity the boy, so he changed the subject."Where about you from?" he asked Trip as we approached the post office. I quickly ran inside and handed the envelops to the man behind the counter. When I came out again, Trip was saying something.

"I'm from around Tennessee. I ran away when I was twelve years old and I ain't never looked back." he explained, starting to walk back towards the direction we came from when he saw me.

"W-what ya doin since then?" Jupiter sputtered.

"I run for President." Trip replied bluntly. I snorted, and everyone was smiling except for Jupiter, who looked confused."I ain't win though." We erupted into laughter. He was a jerk but he was a funny one. When we made it back into camp, it was past twilight, and the sky was a deep shade of purple, with sparkling stars and and brilliant white crescent moon. It was lovely. As I was walking away, Trip stuck out his foot and I fell over it, thankfully catching myself before I hit the ground."See you 'round nigger." he told me. I frowned at him, watching him walk away. Then I turned and walked towards the officer's quarters, jamming my hands into the pockets of my Levi's. I strolled through the long building, past bunks and bunks of other young officers until I got to the very end where Robert's quarters were separated by a thick tan colored sheet, his light was on, the only in this dark room, having the light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel look.

I took a deep breath and knocked. I saw his silhouette as he opened almost immediately. His hat was off, and so was his navy colored jacket with shiny gold buttons. He was still wearing his shoes, a white shirt, and the blank pants with suspender straps that he wore today. I felt a little awkward, but I still managed to salute. What a bloody extraordinary accomplishment for someone like me. He looked surprised, but he saluted too."Miss Janiero."

It felt weird to be so formal and army-style."It's done..._.sir_."

He smiled."Thank you." I just noticed, he has such a nice smile. He frowned, probably wondering why I was staring at him so oddly. I snapped my eyes away from his mouth. I am such a pervert."You may retire." He said. I nodded."Dismissed." With a final salute he turned around, and pulled the flap back. I all but ran and collapsed on my bunk, not even bothering to take my shoes off. Yep, we're in real school now.

**Thanks for reading, guys, review please.**


	8. The New Kid

**YarisVamp:** Really? Wow, your cousin is good, I thought it was a professional pic. :) I'm so glad that you like this so much.

**smartyjonescrzy:** Haha, good job, it was the shoes :) Alex is very awkward, I almost feel bad for throwing her into such situations, bt I do it anyway. :D BTW could you please tell me if Trip, Thomas, etc. etc. are ever OOC. Thanks. The cultural notes help, really, I did not know that that wsa considered adultry, but wouldn't they be surprised at us now. Women walking around in short shorts and tank tops. Their reaction would have been interesting to see. Lol. Thanks always.

**BeagleBug:** Hey! I hope you had fun. Happy late 4th of July to you too. I didn't really do that much, first we sang the "Star-Spangled Banner" very loudly and off-key with my friend in our neighborhood park. Lol, I don't know what was going on in my head at that time. Then we went to the beach with my family, and shot off fireworks andmade a legal banfire. Lol. Good to have you back. Glad you liked the story. Glad you like Forbes. ;D

**Kickin'it14: **Hey! I think that you might like the story it's pretty good. Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you like Forbes.

* * *

The night was horrible, completely freezing. I was the first to 'hit the sack' and didn't even change. Not that I had any pj's in the first place, I kept my clothes on for warmth, and because the huge cabin was full of Union soldiers, all of them undoubtedly male. I tried to fall asleep, under the army's standard blue cotton blanket, and put my head under the cheap, cotton pillow to block out the loud laughter of the officers. They stayed up pretty late, and probably would have fallen asleep later, unless Robert hadn't come out and barked at everyone to scare them off to bed. I'm sure he knew that the men were just venting out their first-day-excitement to each other, but he was either to tired to care or didn't want a large group of half-asleep officers in the morning. Finally, the gas lamps went out and the laughter silenced. Time to sleep. Or so I thought.

The November wind howled through the cracks in the wood, making me shiver and curl up into a tight ball, trying to keep every inch of my body covered by the blanket. Not only that, but most of the officers began to snore. Men. How typical. I pulled the pillow over my head, trying to block out the sound. But it was unbearable. Especailly with Forbes's bunk next to mine. Let me tell you, the guy can _snore_. The first time he did it, it was so sharp that I fell out of bed. In a weird way, I thought it sounded like gunfire, and with my drowsy mind, I actaully thought that the Confederates were attacking us. I was about to go wake Robert up when I realized it was only Forbes. With a glare at him I climbed back into my bunk and finally fell asleep.

* * *

"Five more minutes." I muttered at the person shaking my shoulders. They wouldn't stop."Go away?"

"Go away?" the voice sounded shocked."Alex are you insane?" It was Forbes. I cracked an eye open. Sunlight poured through the cracks in the room.

"What's the matter?" I asked him drowsely."Lemme sleep."

"Alex, you missed the bugle wake up call, almost a half hour ago. You should be in the mess hall eating breakfast by now. You are lucky that I found you instead of Robert. If it were him..." he paused and smiled slightly."...I'd hate to attend your funeral."

I sat up quickly. He was right. The room was completely empty, the beds made. I looked up at Forbes. He was already in uniform, looking fresh and shaven."What time is it?"

He glanced at his pocket watch."Almost seven hundred."

"What?" I muttered, bemused.

"Robert will be passing through this bed hall any minute now, and when he is, we had better not be here." he explianed, already walking towards the exit. I quickly made the bed and followed. I went to brush my teeth, in freezing cold water I might add, before I went to look for the mess hall. I found it pretty quickly.

I walked inside the worn wooding building, warm from the cooking ovens. It was toasty and almost pleasant, besides the noise and smell. I walked to the end of the short line, I was one of the last people to get food. I still can't believe I over slept. When I went up to get my food, I almost gave it back. The officer serving it stared at me oddly, before ladling out a glump of a grey gruel like thing in my tin bowl. The next guy gave me hard tack, and the third one gavy me a tiny, dark sliver of hard molasses. How genorous. I should stop complaining, but to be honest, it was the first time in my life that school lunches seemed like a delicacy.

I took my tray and stood awkwardly in between the ailes of wooden tables. I hated this. Nothing was worse than being the 'new-kid' and having nowhere to sit. It was pretty awkward, and it got worse. Someone flung a small piece of gruel on me. How rude and immature. I wiped it off of the shoulder of my Union jacket and looked up, trying to find out where it came from. It came from Jupiter's, Rawlins's, Thomas's, and ofcourse, Trip's table. I could tell because they were all staring at me, Trip's two goons were laughing, especially the one who threw the food at me. Trip was staring at me, silently smirking. I quickly looked around for a place to sit, but ofcourse every table just HAD to be packed, all except for Trip's. I hesitated, trying to put on my "so-not-a-chicken" and walked over to them.

I set my tray across from Trip, his goons, and Thomas, and slipped in between Jupiter and Rawlins."Hey Twinkle Toes." Trip leaned in. I leaned back. I was kind of scared of him."Who done told ya you can sit here?"

I sputtered. "I...I...I..."

"Leave her be, son." Rawlins interfered.

"No one asked you old man." Trip snapped at him.

Thomas and Jupiter stared at Trip."What you staring at, Snowflake?" Thomas looked away as Trip's 'back-up dancers' laughed.

I shoved a spoonful of gruel in my mouth and immediatly spit it out. It tasted worse than it looked. I pushed my plate away."You don't like that?" Sharts asked. I stared at him. He askes the most obvious questions.

"No, I love it." I replied. He didn't catch the sarcasm."You can have it." I said.

"Thanks ma'am!" he responded happily. I can never understand how the men can eat that.

"How come you just give them food away like you rich, Twinkle Toes?" Trip asked. I had no answer. Thankfully Forbes and Charlie were passing by us. I shot a 'save-me' look at him, but unfortunatly his head was bent over a copy of _Harper's Weekly_, and he didn't see me.

"Pssst...Forbes!" I hissed. He didn't hear me, and walked by. Thomas seemed to be trying to get his attention also. He beat me.

"Major?" he called out. At first, Forbes hadn't hear him."Forbes! That's you!" Thomas shoved a piece of molasses into his mouth and stood from the table. Forbes stopped ubruptly, and folded his newspaper, spinning around along with Charlie.

"Thomas!" Forbes exclaimed, as if pleasantly surprised.

Thomas smiled."Hello."

Forbes laughs soflty."How are you?" I glance at Charlie, he looks so surprised that the two are speaking so informaly.

"You know Charlie Morse." Forbes gestures at the nervous Charlie. Thomas smiles at him, still chewing on his piece of molasses.

"Charlie." Thomas shakes his hand.

Charlie nods."Thomas Searles." Still in disbelief of their familiarity, He glances unsurely at Forbes, and excuses himself."Cabot." Forbes nods and Charlie walks away.

Forbes touches Thomas's arm."So...uh...how was your meal?"

Trip is staring at Thomas with an odd mix of expression on his face, both annoyance and dislike. Finally he speaks."Look at him, thinking that he's the best nigger around all cause he gets to be talken to the white man."

"Leave it alone, son." Rawlins murmures, Surprisingly, Trip does.

Thomas shoves his hands inot his pockets,"The remoulade was a trifle tart..." Forbes enjoys that, since he laughs heartily and crosses his arms."...but the souffle for dessert more than made up for it."

Forbes, still chuckling,"And your...uh...comrades?" One of Trip's goons fling a piece of hard tack at Thomas's back. Trip hardly notices, staring so intently at him and Forbes. Thomas and Forbes turn to look back at us, Forbes looks surprised that I'm there.

Thomas is laughing."Charming..." They look from me, to Rawlins, to Jupiter, to Trip. Thomas turns away."Extraordinary conversationalists, every one."

"Major Forbes!" all attention turns to the commanding voice in the back of the room which belongs to Robert. He looked clean-shaven, except the facial hair that he refuses to get rid of, and his blue suit is neatly pressed, his kepi nesstlyd perfectly on top of his head. Robert's hands are folded behind his back, and unamused expression paced on his face."A word, please"

"Oh, excuse me, Thomas." Forbes says. Thomas nods and sits down.

Trip leans in."You think you betta than us cause you know the white boy?" Trip asks. Thomas looks down.

"Quiet!" Rawlins commands. I roll my eyes, they act like children. I see Robert's eyes jump from Thomas, to Trip, to Rawlins, and finally land on me. He nods."Miss Janiero, if you please."

I nervously climb out and approach him, right behind Forbes. When we stop, Robert's attention is focused completely on him, not so much as a glance in my direction. I remain silent, Forbes does not."Yes, Robert?"

"I won't permit that kind of fraternezation." Robert spills bluntly.

Forbes frowns and gestures back at Thomas."It's only Thomas." he finishes with an awkward chuckle and glance at me. Robert is still not amused.

He gives him a short nod."He's an enlisted man."

Forbes gives in."You're right, of course." Forbes awkwardly taps his folded copy of _Harper's Weekly_ newspaper against his palm, with another sheepish glance in my direction.

Robert opens his mouth."I've sent for help." he takes a step forward and Forbes appeares to listen carefully."These men need a proper teacher." Forbes nods as it's understood and with a salute, Robert dismisses Forbes.

I notice how tired he looks, and his forehead is tight with worry. I feel sorry for him, but he appears to have forgotten all about me. I touch his arm."Ro-Sir?"

He looks surprised that I'm still there, and blinks before he regains his formal, commanding composure."Why don't you let Forbes 'fratenize'?" I ask out of curiosity.

Robert sighs."Never question authority, Miss Janiero." He must have seen my sad facial expression, because he added,"_Major_ Forbes is a commanding officer, if he makes friends, he will eventually have to send them out to battle, sometimes even to certain death. This is not an easy thing to do."

I nod, I finally get it."Thank you."

"Whatever for?" he frowns.

"For explaining." Duh.

He looks a little awkward for a second but then clears it away."We are recieving a new sargeant to day, a Mulcahy, I believe, and I need you to run some errands for me. Come with me." he commands, and walks toward the exit of the mess hall, I obediantly follow him. Dare I not?

**Hey guys! Happy late Fourth of July. Oh Say Can You See! By the Dawn's early...okay, enough with the offkeying. lol. Review please. Ta!**


	9. Pulling Rank

**Hey guys, thanks for your patience, review please. ;)**

**smartyjonescrzy:**Haha thanks so much! I'm trying to make Robert boy-scouty, and Forbes funny. Btw, I think that you'll like this chapter. I added more Charlie for ya. ;) I feel so sorry for Rob's mom, thouhg. Thanks so much again. Oh yeah, I think that their kid's name was Frank.

**shadowxofxdarkness**: Thanks so much! Glad you liked it.

**Beagle Bug:**Haha, I know right? Rawlins is so grampa-ish.

**YarisVamp**: What did she copy off of? I don't get it. I'm so glad that you like ti that much. ;D

I followed Robert out of the toasty, noisy mess hall and into the crisp, silent November air. I had to run to keep up with his long strides, until I could match them and fall into step with him. I looked around, everything was wet and muddy, and there were puddles the size of the Great Lakes here and there. Okay, not _that _big, but still. We walked silently for a few minutes until we reached the very edge of the camp, where a wooden shack stood next to the entrance. Robert stalked up to the the building, his leather boots making sloshing sounds in the melting, muddy snow. He pulled open the door and held it for me. I raised my eyebrows, I don't know why I was so surprised.

"Thank you." I murmured. He didn't say anything as I went passed him inside, he didn't even respond. I walked into the small room, there stood a long desk, with three officers, Charlie, and two others that I did not recognize. After muttering a hello to Charlie, I went to stand next to the burning coal oven, drying myself off. Robert walked in behind me and shut the door. Charlie and the other two officers immediatly stood up and saluted him. Robert looked slightly annoyed and gave them a hurried salute.

"At ease." he murmured and approached the desk.

"Did he arrive yet?" Robert asked Charlie.

Charlie shook his head."Not yet, but he is due any minute now."

Robert nodded and leaned over on the desk."What about the mail?"

Charlie nodded and pulled out a single yellow envelope from the desk. He handed it to Robert, who seemed to be restraining himself from snatching it."Thank you."

He walked toward the door and looked over his shoulder."Carry on." then he glanced in my direction."Miss Janiero, if you please." I nodded, and when he turned around I waved a goodbye to Charlie, before following after Robert's retreating, navy-blue-overcoated back.

His head was hunched low, the hard black brim of his kepi-hat covering his deep brown eyes. His mouth was pressed in a tight thin line, and his forehead was creased with worry as he walked briskly toward the officer's sleeping barracks. Once inside, he marched past the neat rows of beds straight to his quarters, pulling the tan piece of cloth away from the doorway he marched inside and sat down at his desk, starting to tear open the envelope."Come in." he told me, without so much as a glance in my direction.

I looked around his room. It was kind of nice. He had a heating stove, a desk, a small window by it complete with glass, a nice chair, a large wooden chest, a more comfortable-looking bed with better pillows and blankets then ours, and a bookshelf. I walked right up to it and ran my fingers delicately over the large books with their intricate covers. There were copies of Shakespeare novels and poems, _Bleak House_ by Charles Dickens, one big black book of Edgar Allen Poe (the goth of the 1800's), even a few Jules Verne, a copy of _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ (which they made us read that in history), and last but not least, a bright red book with gold letters "_The Art of War_." I kneeled down next to the bookshelf and just stared at it in awe, my outh hanging open. These were the oldest books I've ever seen, or at least will be in the 21rst century. Robert cleared his throat, and I looked up.

"Ahem." he had finished reading, he looked worried and sad.

"Sorry." I mumbled as I stood up."What's wrong?"

He looked a little overwhelmed, and surprised that I asked. Oh come one, chill out dude, it's just a question. He folded his arms and stood up."Nothing, nothing at all. I'm just a bit worried about my mother." he shrugged.

"Why?" I asked.

He stared at me."It doesn't matter." the harshness was evident in his voice. I don't think he meant it though.

"Psshh...sorry." I muttered.

He regained his composure and looked at me, something seemed to be on his mind, for when he watched me he didn't see me, his eyes went right through me."Have you ever ridden a horse?" he asked me suddenly.

"No, but I-"

"Have you ever done anything useful?" I thought I heard him mutter under his breath, but when I looked at him I also could have sworn that it was just my imagination.

"At least I don't look like Ferris Bueller." I mumbled at him.

"Excuse me?" he leaned in. Oh no, he heard me."You'll have to speak up Miss Janiero." Oh good, he didn't.

I frowned."I drove my parent's car before." My eyes widened at the realization of what I just said, and I smacked my hands over my stupid, big, fat, mouth.

He stared at me intently."A car?"

Was this an interrogation?"I meant my parent's...er_...buggy_. But when my car...er..._horse_ broke down, they stopped trusting me." What was I saying?

He opened his mouth but Charlie burst through the doorway. I had to restrain myself from saying 'thank-you' outloud. Charlie and Robert saluted each other."Mr. Mulcahy has arrived sir."

"_Sargent_." Robert corrected."Thank you Captian Morse." he glanced back at me."Come with me."

We followed Charlie back into their corner officer by the gate, Robert didn't open the door this time...I beat him to it, or atleast that's how I _prefer_ to put it. He walked inside and saluted everybody, glancing back at me to make sure that I did the same. Robert turned his attention to a large, tall man, with a very intimidating appearance. He had small, dark eyes and a think dirty-blonde mustache. He stood tall and strong, as if he were some kind of a mountain, impossible to move. Robert reached out to shake the man's hand. I acted like a stupid little kid, hiding behind Robert's back."Sargent Major Mulcahy, it's a pleasure to have you here."

"Thank you, sir." Sgt. Mulcahy's answers were precise and to the point, loud and clear, and he didn't speak any more than he needed to. He didn't seem to talk much at all. Or so I thought. After talking and explaining more things to the sargeant, Robert turned to look at me.

"Miss Janiero, would you please carry Mulcahy's suitcases and set them on the empty cot in the officer's barracks?" he asked simply. I looked down at Mulcahy's feet, where two big brown suitcases rested. Those things were huge. I probably couldn't even lift one and he expected me to carry both.

"Um..." I didn't know what to say. Who did he think I was? A bell boy?

"That was not a suggestion Miss Janiero, it was an _order_." he told me. Touchy? Or just showing off? I stared at him. He was pulling rank, I just know it. I had almost given up on asking him to just call me Alex. Really, how hard was that? I probably would have asked him to just call me 'Alex' again, just to piss him off, but I didn't dare, because he was already annoyed and/or mad at me and I didn't want to push it.

"Okay." I walked over and tried to pick one up. What did the guy put in there? Bricks? With a grunt, I lifted it up about two feet off the ground, and dropped it immediatly, it landed on my foot."OW! Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" it hurt. By then I had realized what I just did. Holding on to one foot, and standing on the other, I looked around insecurely. That was by far not the most ladylike thing to say. I could probably make a sailor blush. Robert blinked at me. Mulcahy's eyebrows were so high up on his forehead, a little more and they would touch his hair line. Charie was looking down, trying to hide a small smile, and the other two officers pretended that they did not hear me say that.

Finally Robert cleared his throat, I had surprised the heck out of him."Captain Morse?"

Charlie stepped up."Yes sir?"

"Would you mind helping Miss Janiero with the suitcases?" he asked, not even looking at me. Something told me that I was going to get it later.

"Yes sir." Charlie approached me and picked up both of the suitcases no problem, I was surprised that I wouldn't have to drag any of them.

I looked at Robert apologetically, and at Mulcahy, for good measure."Carry on." Robert said quietly. Then he turned around and continued to talk to Mulcahy in army language, saying words that I didn't understand. Charlie propped the door open with his foor, and I held it so that he could pass by. Then I shoved my hands into my pockets, and dug my chin into my collar. I was close to tears. Why does everything happen to _me_?

Charlie noticed."It happens, you know." I was surprised that he said anything. Well, if he was offering to listen, I can't refuse that.

"No, not to _normal_ people." I spat, not at him, but at myself."_Normal_ people don't step a over people's feet while dancing, _normal_ people don't fall off of podiums, _normal _people don't shout out 'your mom' at obnoxious creeps, _normal _people don't get caught 'loitering', _normal _people don't drop suitcases on themselves and then yell 'dammit.' _Normal_..."

He cut me off."These things _do_happen, to everyone. You'd be surprised at the things Forbes and I did in the 2nd Massachusetts. You'd be surprised at the things _Robert_ did during the course of his life."

"Robert?" I sniffed.

He nodded."Did you know that he once dressed up as a woman to a local ball?"

I burst out laughing, I couldn't help myself. Charlie was also smiling at the fond memory."No I didn't."

His smile got bigger."Forgot to mention that, did he?"

"Hard to believe." I said.

"Oh yes." he said, walking inside the barracks and setting the suitcases on the empty cot."You could say that."

"What happened?" I asked.

"The war." he said flatly."Antietam." he sighed."It will al go away when the war is over." his expression looked so far away, as if he was remembering a forgotten past. I propped myself down on the cot, and that drew him out of his thoughts. He looked down at me and smiled."Don't feel to bad, Miss Janiero, everyone has clumsy moments, and graceful ones too."

I held up my hand."Alex, please."

"Alex it is then." he replied with a smile.

"Thank you, Charlie, you're very nice." I said.

"I imagine that all of us could use a few slivers of kindness in such a cruel war." he had that distant look again. Then it disappeared."We'd better go, unless you feel like getting caught for loitering again." he said.

"No." I replied."Not this time. If Robert catches us he'd probably shoot us this time." I grinned."Besides, it won't be 'fun' getting caught without Forbes."

Charlie chuckled and walked to the door. Then he stopped and turned."Don't think to bad about Robert, he's a good man." then he left.

After a minute, I stood up too."I won't." I mumbled to myself."At least I'll try."

**I feel sorry for Alex. I hope that you liked this, guys, review please. Thanks so much! XOXO.**


	10. Don't Drink and Guard

**Beagle Bug: **The part about dressing like a woman is historically accurate. The real Robert Shaw actually did that. ;)

**smartyjonescrzy: ***takes a bow* Thank you. lol. I thought that you might enjoy the Charlie part more than anyone else. ;) Shaw died this past Sunday. So sad. I had to see the movie again, and I cried.

**Anntrell: **Yay! I'm glad you're back! I know, it's so sad. I watched the movie too, like at 3am, I am so weird ;D, (I cried though) And then I sang the Star-Spangled Banner loudly and off-key, in the middle of my street at 5 in the morning with my friend, some guy actually told us to shut up. lol.

**High Queen Crystal:**Yay You're back. So glad ur not dead. ;p Hope you had lotsa fun. I did that in front of my mom, 'cept she's not deaf and she heard me. Oh the lecture that followed!

* * *

**Hey! I must warn you that I didn't have much time, so this chapter is random and...weird. Nevertheless, enjoy.**

I pulled on my jacket and walked out of the officer's barracks and into the snow-mud-puddle covered campgrounds. It was pretty cold, the sky was cloudy and silver, but atleast it wasn't snowing. I walked forward, having no idea where I was going, or why I was even going. I didn't know where Robert was, for all I know he's probably chewing out Forbes as I walk. I pulled the sleek communicator out of my pocket and checked the time. 2:30. I had missed lunch and my stomach was rumbling, but I wouldn't have eaten that rubbish anyway. Oh how I miss school lunches, the good old days of frozen tiny milk cartons, and gooey peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

"Alex! Aleeex!" I stopped short and turned around, my hands in my pockets and my shoulders hunched, the navy kepi covering my ears and frosted hair.

"Forbes?" I squinted. It _was_ Forbes who called my name, he was sprinting toward me, his hat under his arm.

"Alex!" he sighed breathlessly when he reached me. He leaned over, his hands on his knees.

"Forbes, you need to work out more often." I joked. Quiet frankly, so did I, no wonder I'm always close to passing out in Phys. Ed.

He looked up at me."I need to ask you a favor."

"Shoot."

He frowned,"What?"

"I meant, go ahead and tell me what it is." it's frustrating when people don't know your futuristic phrases.

He beckoned me to follow him, and we walked for several minutes in the snow until we reached the edge of camp, not to far from the gate-shack. He stopped in front of a large grey rock, big enough to sit on. "I was given orders to wait here until we received orders from Boston._ If _there even are any orders." he said bitterly.

I shrugged and leaned on the balls of my feet, hoping I wouldn't fall back."So, what am I supposed to do about it."

Forbes continued,"But I have to go into town, and..." he trailed of and looked away.

"You want me to do the 'dirty' work?" I finished for him.

He snapped his head back at me,"Pardon?"

"No nothing. You want me to do your job?" I asked.

He twisted and squirmed, racking his brain for an answer."Yes." he finally sighed."Please."

"Sure." I shrugged."And if someone asks? Robert would chop off your head."

"He rarely comes here at this time of day, he's busy writing, or reading." Forbes held out his arms away from his body."And what he doesn't know, can't hurt him."

_Then why do I feel sick to my stomach and slightly dizzy? "_Uh! Forbes, you are horrible."

He smiled."Will you do this for me?"

I arched and eyebrow."You want me to babysit a rock?"

"Mmmhmm." he nodded.

"Okay." I plopped down on the rock, but it was slippery, and I slid off into the snow, and now my butt feels wet. Forbes restrained a chuckled and pulled me up.

"Alex, thank you! Just sit here until four-thirty, then you can go." he said, before jogging off to the stables, probably to get his horse. In a few minutes he was gone.

I sat there and waited. And waited. And waited. And just to change the words, I waited some more. I sang songs in my head. I made snowballs with my bare hands and threw them as far as they would go. I took a stick and wrote names in the mud, it took me five minutes to realize that I kept writing Robert. I'm loosing it. I played the cheap games installed in the fancy communicator, and watched the clouds of breath from my mouth. I was officially the boredest person on the planet. I stared up at the sky, until I realized why the holes in my stomach wouldn't go away. I was hungry, and thirsty. I glanced at the communicator, there was still about forty-five minutes until four-thirty, a whole two hours until dinner...excuse me...supper. Then it came to me. I remembered that I had a bottle of Coke from Marty in my bag.

Quickly, I got up and ran to the officer's barracks. I pulled out the divine glass bottle of fizzing black liquid and sprinted back to my post. I pulled the metal cap off, and the Coke foamed to the top. I quickly shoved the end of the bottle in my mouth and drank it down, the old fashioned style glass cool on my lips, not that I needed any cool in this forsaken, frozen, muddy, wasteland known as Camp Readville among the locals. Pardon my venting. I felt someone's eyes on my, and I turned around. Far behind me, on the porch of one of the buildings, stood a tall, young, white Union officer. He had strawberry curly hair peeking under his kepi, a thick strawberry mustache, and black eye that were narrowed at me as if I was some dangerous insect, that must be squashed immediately. Just for the fun of it, I glared back at him. His eyes snapped to normal and he looked down at my hands, quickly I hid the Coke bottle behind the big stupid rock. He noticed it. After a few seconds, he turned around and went inside. With a smirk I turned around and continued drinking.

"Nigger get off me!" I heard Trip's voice behind me. I turned to see him arguing with Thomas again. With an annoyed sigh, I saw Rawlins lead them both away, each hand gripping each privates collar. That was random, I turned back and gasped. That soldier was standing infront of me, with Charlie at his side.

"Um...hello." I squeaked.

"You see this?" the strawberry soldier leaned down and picked up the bottle."Drinking! Robert would never stand for that." he barked at Charlie.

Omigod they think it's beer. Charlie winced. "Andrews, it's probably a misunderstanding..."

I jumped off the ground."It is! I protested. It's not beer!"

Andrews snorted."A likely story."

Charlie looked uncomfortable."I doubt this young lady drinks."

Andrews ignored him."What is your name, soldier?" he shouted at me.

"Dude, chill." I slipped."You can call me Alex."

"I can call you private." he snapped.

"Oooh, good one, Andrews." I was pushing his buttons.

"It's Leutenant Andrews, Private!" he barked."And don't think I don't know about your stunt with Major Forbes."

I played dumb."What stunt?"

He looked disgusted, Charlie shifted uncomfortably."Sir Robert is already aware. Major Forbes is in his office right now."

I snorted."Sir Robert? All of a sudden we're in Camelot?"

He grabbed my arm."We will see how amusing Colonel Shaw will find that."

"Hey, lemme go!" I shouted at him, wriggling away. Gosh, such a jerk.

"Andrews, this isn't necessary." Charlie began but Andrews ignored him.

Andrews plopped me down on the rock and leaned his face into mine. "Maybe your ears don't work so well."

I scrunched up my nose, and turned away."Yeah, to bad my nose works just fine."

He growled but Charlie pulled him away, he was higher in rank."Proceed lieutenant, we will follow." with another growl Andrews stormed off towards Robert's office.

Charlie helped me up."I'm sorry about him."

I shrugged."What's his problem?"

"He probably dislikes you because he wanted to be the colonel's aid." I looked at him, he was smiling.

"If he wants to do my job, let him be my guest." I said, Charlie chuckled.

I swallowed. "Are Forbes and I in trouble?"

Charlie looked appologetic."I tried to stop him, but he..."

"...is a snitch." I finished. Charlie pretended to understand what I meant.

We finally reached Robert's office, and Charlie pulled the door open for me. Robert was seated at a large wooden desk, papers stacked in a neat pile, and an ink thing with a feather sticking out of it. The half-empty Coke bottle stood in front of him. He looked up when we came inside, and exchanged salutes with Charlie. Forbes was seated next to him, looking like a man on death row. His hair was matted, he sat stiffly, and occasionally sneaked glares at Andrews, who was seated on a chair across from them, looking like he bloody owns the place. Robert went around his desk and crossed his arms."Miss Janiero."

I looked down at my feet. He siighed."Do you have something to tell me?"

Forbes was watching me intently. Andrews was smirking. "No." I mumbled.

"Can you tell me what this is?" he picked up the bottle of Coke and set it back down.

"It's not beer. It's an all-time favorite beverage from the fu-...where I come from." I said.

Andrews spoke up."Sir, what else could it be?"

Robert held up a hand to stop him."Lieutenant." he muttered, picking up the bottle and bringing it to his lips. He took a sip and set it back down."There is no alcohol." Congrats, your the first colonel to drink Coke.

Andrews looked like he was slapped in the face."What?"

"Lieutenant Andrews, you are excused."Robert looked annoyed, as if he had better things to do than be bothered with this. Forbes smirked triumphantly at Andrews."Thank you, Captain." Charlie nodded and escorted Andrews out of the building. He turned to us again.

"If you ever,_ ever _pull a stunt like that again, I will have you _both_ removed from service." Robert spoke through his teeth.

"Yes sir." I mumbled.

Forbes spoke up."Robert-"

"Is that clear?" Robert interrupted.

Forbes stared at him."Transparently." he muttered bitterly.

Robert turned to me."You are excused, Miss Janiero. Report tomorrow at nine-thirty sharp, both you and Major Forbes must take consequences for your actions."

I mumbled a 'yessir' and left. My knees felt like Jell-o and my teeth chattered.

* * *

**Robert's POV**

Robert watched her go, standing straight and tall until her wavy-curly head disappeared through the doorway, then he turned to Forbes.

"Forbes? Have you lost you mind? Do you not know that it isn't safe for a woman to be out alone?" he asked him.

"Robert, there was hardly any danger, if there was, I wouldn't have left her." Forbes replied nonchalantly.

"Good God, Major." Robert muttered, pulling on his navy blue overcoat."I'm retiring.''

He stepped out of the building and walked off to the barracks.

**Hope you liked this weirdness. Review please. Andrews' a jerk. **


	11. Drilling

**Sorry for the wait guys, went on vacation. So glad you liked the last chapter. Would LOVE your reviews. ;) (who wouldn't) thank you!**

**smartyjonescrzy:**I'm glad you thought it was good. Yeah, I feel sorry for the real Robert too, it is so sad, I cried. But thanks 4 the compliments, and again, sry for taking so long. I'll try to have more Robert moments. ;)

**YarisVamp:** Thank you! I'll try to have more Robert moments.

**Sakura Blossom:** Thanks so much it means a lot.

**Anntrell:** Thank you very much! I was afraid to post it because it looked weird to me. ;)

**Beagle Bug:** Thank you! I made Andrews up. ;)

* * *

I woke up bright and early this morning, with the help of Charlie's shaking me awake. Forbes and he, declared me completely helpless, and decided taking turns on waking me up on time every morning, how courteous of them. I was known to be an extremely heavy sleeper, and even my stepmother claimed that nothing short of an earthquake, tornado, or hurricane could wake me up. But I'm not so fond of natural disasters. During another delicious breakfast of slob and grime, with the pleasant company of Trip and his comrades, with their 'confidence-boosting' jeers, glares from the creepy Andrews across the room, I was glad to see Forbes approach our table, and they silenced themselves immediately.

"Alex." Forbes said with a glance at Trip and his staring goons."Colonel Shaw wishes to see you in his office immiediatly after you finish your breakfast." Acting formal infront of the men.

He smiled, nodded at the men, and spun around, and just like that my protection walked off. I resisted the urge to reach for him, call him back and demand that he take me with him and save me from more torment and humiliation. But I didn't. Instead I turned back in my seat, and stared at my plate. The jeering began spontaneously.

Trip leaned forward across the table toward me."What was that, Twinkle Toes? You think you better than the rest of us 'cause you know the colonel?"

I cringed away from his words."Well, what's wrong with that?"

"Let her be, son." Rawlins intervened, but Trip, as usual, ignored him. He was fuelled by the laughing approval of his goons.

"H-he bothering you?" Jupiter asked me. I blinked at him, seriously, the kid asked dumber questions than I did. Thomas must have noticed that too.

"Of course." he said, a bit sharply. Jupiter shut his mouth, and Trip turned his attention to "Snowflake" and left me alone. I quickly shoved the last few spoonfuls of gruel in my mouth, cleared my plate, and all but ran out of there, in the direction of "Bob's" office.

I got there in under two minutes, heaving, my nose and ears red from the biting cold. I stumbled through the doorway so quickly that I ended up falling to my knees in front of surprised Robert's desk. Charlie was standing at one side, and Forbes on the other. Robert stared at me on the ground. That was pretty awkward. After a few seconds of staring at me, looking very amused, Forbes walked across to me and helped me up."No need to fall to you knees, Alex." he joked in a whisper."There is no royalty here. But if you insist, a simple bow at the waist should to, even for Rob." he winked and walked away from me with a quiet chuckle.

"Miss Janeiro." Robert began, appearing as if he had something 'up his sleeve.' "As you know, what you and Forbes did was unacceptable, and both of you will take the consequences for your actions."

I hesitated. "What kind of consequences?" there he almost smiled.

After giving Forbes kitchen duty, he and Charlie led me out to the 'parade grounds', where the men were practicing drilling. With one, harsh, intimidating Sergeant Major Mulcahy.

"For God's sakes men, you march like a bunch of crippled old goats!" he shouted at them, marching them back and forth."Jesus Christ we're gonna be here day and night 'till we get this right! A one! one! Cooompaaanyyy halt! Abouuut face!" he ordered, the men's steps clumsily matching the drummer boys' beat rhythm.

They marched a few feet and Mulcahy started to yell again."You are like ugly Mexican-African fucking whores!" What a nice thing to say. I was so surprised I drew back into Robert.

He calmly put his gloved hands on me and steered me out of his way. It felt tingly."Sorry." I muttered.

He ignored that."Go ahead." he nodded his head at the marching men.

I let out a creepy, historical, crazy, Mad-Hatter laugh when the Red Queen threatened to loose his head. Robert blinked at me."What?"

I sobered."You're not...you're not serious?"

"You dare question authority?" he replied flatly. I wanted to be on his good side, so I nodded and obediently joined the group of marching soldiers.

Mulcahy's eyes pierced at me as I joined in."We're gonna be here day and night gentlemen. Forward at the half-step. March! One!"

He turned his attention on a grim, mature even, looking Trip in a top hat."You half-wit black bastard!" he shouted."Is it true the cut your balls off at birth?" How lovely. Trip looked straight ahead, gritting his jaw."Im gonna work on you until I get you broken."

Only when Mulcahy walked away to find a new soul to torture, then Trip only gave him an indignant stare. That torturing sould was destined to be Jupiter."Cooompaannyy! Halt!" Mulcahy grabbed Jupiter."For God's sakes man do you not know your right from your left?"

Jupiter shuttered."N-n-no sir." he stammered. Mulcahy set his jaw.

"How many here do not know right from left?" most of the me raised there hands.

Mulcahy looked up the sky in annoyance and exasperation."Jesus have pity." he muttered.

He turned to Jupiter."_This_ is your front!" he smacked Jupiter's chest so hard he staggered back."_This _is your rear!" he pushed on his back and Jupiter flew forward."_This_is your left!" Mulcahy ground his heel into poor Jupiter's foot. He winced. "And this..." Jupiter quickly raised his right foot out of the way just in time. Mulcahy looked almost impressed. He let go of Jupiter's colar."_Now_ you're learnin' boy-o"

Mulcahy left him alone."Company! Foooorwaaard! March! One! One! One!" I saw Jupiter let out a sigh of relief.

After about an hour of this torture...er...training, Mulcahy positioned us be ranks and made us shout out a bunch of numbers. The men did as we were told."One! Two! One! Two! One!...They shouted with perfect accuracy, except me.

They stared expectantly, until I realized that it was _me_ who was being stared at. But I was dumb enough not to pay attention."...Er...Two!"

The sergeant's eyes lasered through me."Janeiro!" he roared. I cringed. Mulcahy glared and spun around, marching down the line."You bloody Hindus get it right!" he barked."Stop! Start it again! In each rank! Go!"

After about forty-five minutes of this...no adjective fitting enough to describe...we were back to marching again through th slush and ankle-deep puddle. It was freezing, and I dug my chin into my collar bone, trying to block out the biting cold. The jeans and Converse didn't help, the only thing that did was the Union jacket I was given. Worst of all, we were all wet and tired, but no one cared, they didn't want us fainting on the battlefield.

The Sergeant's voice droned on."Left! Left! Left! Right! Left!" One of Trip's goons, Jones, I believe, did the mistake of shoving his hands into his pockets. Mulcahy yanked it out."For God's sakes man get your damn hand out of your pocket! What's wrong with you soldier?" Jones looked humiliated.

Mulcahy stormed after Thomas." Look what we have here, Bonnie Prince Charlie. Are you a gentleman?" he pried."Are you a member of Congress or something? Or are you the bloody prince of Africa?" That hit the spot, Thomas turned his head at him. Mulcahy grabbed his neck and snapped it back forward."Now don't look at me! Look straight ahead!"

Finally we passed the place where the officers gathered around. Apart from everyone, Robert and Forbes stood in front of a fire, Forbes' gloved hands warming up over it. Lucky. Both appeared amused with Mulcahy, but at least Robert was trying to hide it, on Forbes' face it was plain as day. When he saw me, Robert called my name."Miss Janeiro!" I was never happier to have anyone call me before, cute boy or not cute boy. I ran so fast toward the fire I almost slid into it.

"You know," Forbes was saying."The Irish are not noted for their fondness towards the colordes."

Robert glanced at me and nodded."What about the uniforms?"

Forbes sobered."Still no word."

"Rifles?"

Forbes shook his head no.

"See to it then, after you finish the second half of your...er...punishment." Forbes looked annoyed but said nothing. They saluted and exchanged smiles, before Forbes walked away towards the marching men.

Robert bounced slightly, swaying back and forth on his feet to get the much-needed body heat going. Then he turned to me."And as for you, my dear, follow me." I know that he did not take the name of affection seriously, but for some reason, to me it ment a lot. I thought as I followed him.

**Aww, he called her dear. ;p lol. Review please. And of course, thanks for reading!**


	12. The Waitress

**Hey guys! Sorry but I won't be able to update from Monday to Wendnesday, Gone Fishing. Well, it's actually camping, but same difference. Enough about me, enjoy!**

**Beagle Bug:**He is a jerk but he's so funny! lol

**smartyjonesrzy:**I wanted to add in the drilling scene, also, as you will soon find out, Robert made both Forbes nd Alex have the same punishments, just not together. You'll see. :)

**BoosterSeat3:**Sorry for the typos. I can't wait to see that picture of Alex. lol, I love the ideas you sent me, they rally help out! Thanks!

**SakuraBlossom:**I know, right? The Irish Sarge was so hilarious in the movie, lol, thanks for reviewing so often, that's so nice of you, and I like Charlie too, he's an adorable person.

**YaRisVamp: **Yeah, it was, but you'll see, sorry for confusing you. My bad! ;)

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I fidgeted nervously with one of the silver buttons on my Union Army jacket (only the officers had gold ones) as I followed Robert away from the drilling men. Forbes had already joined the squad, and was marching up and down with the rest of the men, trying desperately to stay out of Mulcahy's spotlight. I realized that Robert was taking me to the mess hall. It finally dawned to me. I was about to have kitchen duty also, as if drilling wasn't enough. He lead me through the open door of the giant mess hall, the wooden tables were empty and bare, andseemed to stand silently, missing the noisy atmosphere, waiting for the loud, drilling men to come back and fill their benches. I followed Robert through another door inside of the mess hall, into a kitchen with a generous amount of space. Two men were there, a tall, but round man with a thick, dark brown moustache but no hair, was standing over a mixing pot, smiling cheerfully. The other, a strawberry blonde, saluted when Robert came in. I clicked my tongue, it was Andrews.

"Jerry this is Miss Alexandra Janeiro," Robert began, gesturing back at me with his right hand. He turned to me."Miss Janeiro, this is our chef, Jerry McCogny."

The chef gave me a toothy grin."Why, hello there Lassie."

Lassie? "It's a pleasure." I murmured. Robert watched me curiously.

"Lieutenant Andrews you already know." he added. I nodded.

"Janiero." Andrews growled.

"Lieutenant you will refer to Miss Janeiro with the respectful term 'miss', is that clear?" Robert eyed Andrews, hands clasped behind his back. Andrews shrunk away.

I raised my eyebrows, I was so surprised that Robert had actually stood up for me. It was so sweet. Andrews looked uncomfortable."Yes sir!"

Robert leaned into me and whispered."I have just given you a slight advantage over the lieutenant, _do not _abuse it." Uh oh, the sweetness is gone. Andrews must have realized that Robert was telling me off, for he couldn't hide his smirk.

"Sure." I replied.

He smiled, then talked in a tone loud enough for the other two men to hear."Good then. Miss Janeiro will spend the remainder of her punishment here, finishing the work that Major Forbes began."

"What of the Major, Colonel?" Jerry the cook asked, clutching a wooden ladle.

"Major Forbes is carrying out the remainder of_ his _punishment, drilling as we speak." Robert concluded. I let out a quiet little laugh through my nose, when Robert's eyes snapped to me, I pretended that I was only exhaling, and he looked away. Though with my atrocious acting skills I doubt he bought it. "I'll leave you to it, gentlemen," he nodded at the men, then at me,"Miss Janeiro."

"Yes sir." All three of us chorused immediately, with a salute from us, Robert walked out of the kitchen.

"Well Miss Janeiro," the Irish-accented cook began,"are you ready to start?"

"Call me Alex, please." I said."And yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

"I don't know why the Colonel keeps her around," I heard Andrews mutter,"a woman such as Miss Janeiro could not possibly be useful in an army camp."

I bit my lip. Well that stung. Seriously, Andrews keeps reminding me of Commodor Norrington.

_"Alex, do not flash and obscene gestures, I repeat DO NOT flash the obscene gesture."_ I pep-talked myself.

"Call me Alex." I responded, through the lump in my thought.

"I have special orders from the Colonel himself to refer to you as Miss Janeiro." he sneered.

"Can you say: Colonel's Pet?" I muttered, he did not hear me."Why are you even here?"

"I was put here to supervise Major Forbes, and now, unfortunately, you." He spat.

"Wow. That's nice. You have it rough." I replied sarcastially.

"For I am the Colonel's most trusted Lieutenant." he continued. I swear I heard Jerry the Cook snort.

"Sure, you're the right hand jerk on Simba's rock." I said quietly.

"Enough chattin' you two, the work's still awaitin'." Jerry the Cook shouted. "Miss Janeiro, there is someone I'd like you to meet." he added, reaching around a cabinet and pulling something out.

"Who, where?" I asked excitedly, looking around the room.

He produced the objects from behind his back."Mr. Mop," he tossed one at me,"and Mrs. Bucket." I caught that too.

"Yippee." I muttered.

"Ye'll be washin' the floor in the mess hall, and peelin' potatoes afterward." he finished. Andrews looked exited. They must be crazy, that mess hall was HUGE.

"Well what did Forbes do?" I asked bitterly.

"Major Forbes spent the morning picking off dried molasses from under the mess hall's tables." Andrews intervened for the cook.

I snorted. I swear this is just like highschool.

I spent most of the bloody afternoon washing and srubbing the bloody floor, with a bloody Mr. Mop, and a bloody Mrs. Bucket, under the watchful, yet annoying eye of Liuetenat Andrwes. Every secondmade me hate him more. The second half of the afternoon I spent on the kithen floor, slouching against the brickwall, peepling potatoes with a dull knife andlistening to Jerry the Cook speak of the glory days in the old country, Ireland. When it was time for lunch, whih they call dinner here, I thought that they would finally let me go. But they didn't. Just my luck. Jerry the Cook pulled me off the floor and sent me into the officer's dining room, as a waitress, I was to serve them some good-looking meat and potatoes, waaay better food than what the soldiers got.

When I entered that room, all of the officers sat around a long wooden, retangular table with a white linen cloth. Forbes was on Robert's right hand. They were animatedly talking, but silenced and stood when I entered. ommon ourtesy. How sweet. They sat back down, and Forbes looked away, hidniga smile. I served them silently, going around the table, ladleing out their food onto their white china-plates. I served harlie, who smiled at me, then Forbes, who winked, and finally Robert. But my hand grew tired, and I was about to transfer the tray to my other hand, but I missed it, and the roast beef and mashed potatoes came tumbling down right on his spick-and-span navy blue suit.

Oh God.

**Did I tell you how uh I love you and your reviews? Let me say it one more. ;D Review please! XOXO**


	13. Cry Me a River

**Hey guys, Sorry about that, school started. *Gags* How I miss the days of sleeping in. Anyway, I hope you like it. Review plesae. Love ya!**

**BTW, if you want to see a picture of Alex, go to the Bottom of BoosterSeat3's profile, she has a link there for me, she drew it herself. It is sooo good.**

**High Queen Crystal**: Yeah, now that you mentioned it, Andrews does sound like a Beckett. :)

**Beagle Bug:** What did Forbes do? I must sound dense but my brain is fried. Like the chicken. Yum.

**Sakura Blossom:**ButI like it when you review, and I do hope that people will write more Glory fanfics too.

**smartyjonescrzy:**Haha, I just thought that of Andrews as a sort of person that "kisses up to the boss" and is a Robert wanna be. :)

**YarisVamp**: I know, right? :)

**Emmallie13**: Thanks a lot, it means a lot.

**Kickin'it14**: Sorry for the typos, my brain is fried. :)

**Anntrell:**I wish my school had a food fight, lol.

**BoosterSeat3:** I agree. So love your drawing!

**Outside-Box:** Thanks a bunch!

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**Robert's POV**

Robert closed his deep brown eyes and briefly bit his lip. He opened them again, staring straight ahead as if their _weren't _more than twenty officers and a quivering girl holding their breaths in the room. The food was staining his starched blue uniform, soaking through the thick cotton cloth. His mother's words came back to him...

"Robert, dear, you need someone to help you, you would loose your head if it wasn't attached to your body."

Robert snorted in his mind.

She had joked, of course, but now, he was afraid that he might loose his head _because _someone was 'helping' him. Maybe he should have gotten Andrews instead.

But when he looked at her, those pretty blue eyes wide with fear, lower lip quivering, his eyes softened and his frustration and annoyance vanished. Suddenly she looked so small to him, so fragile, so scared. He opened his mouth to say something, but before anything could come out, the poor Miss Janeiro's eyes filled with tears, and spilled down here cheeks. She looked at him, than spun around and quickly bolted to the door, knocking off Forbes' cap, and tossing the pot of leftover food in Charlie's lap.

"Robert, I'll...excuse me..." Forbes murmured. Robert sighed and nodded. Forbes picked up his kepi off the floor and followed out the door after Miss Janeiro. Robert knew that he was good with Alex, they got along well, though he tried to separate them. It was because of his golden "no fraternization rule" he told himself. But why did he always feel uncomfortable whenever he saw them together? Why did something always twist in his mind? Secretly, for some odd reason, he wished he could go. No, he wouldn't think about that...

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**Alex's POV**

I ran away from that horrible disaster, I couldn't stand it anymore. I am a total idiot. Who does that? Right on the colonel! Talk about no respect whatsoever. The tears kept pouring dwn my cheeks like a waterfall. I couldn't stop crying, I ran, slipping occasionally, until I reached my favorite rock-boulder, where I first got in trouble with Forbes, and for 'drinking.' I plopped down on that rock, miraculously not slipping, and crossed my arms. A sob escaped my throat. Oh cry me a river loser, I thought.

"Stop crying!" I barked at myself."Stupid, stupid girl!"

"How so?" said a voice behind me.

I spun around, my face red and streaked with tears. It, was Forbes, not Robert. "Oh, it's only you."

"Only you?" he repeated."Thank you for making me feel so significant Alex."

"That's not what I meant."

He raised an eyebrow and offered me a sweet crooked smile, plopping down next to me on the rock. What was it doing here? He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Do not shed a single tear, my fair maiden, for I, Cabot Forbes, as horrible as it may sound, shall rescue thee." He said poetically, adding a snort, and finishing with a laugh. I slugged his arm jokingly, he always made me laugh.

We heard the crunch and slosh of the melting snow behind us, and turned around."Whatever is so funny?" Charlie asked, his head cocked to the side, and his hands inside his pockets. Still not Robert.

That just made us laugh even more

"I was wondering if you were alright, Miss Jan...er...Alex." Aww that's so sweet.

"Yes, thanks." I replied."I just need to get over it."

"Oh, Alex." Forbes said, "we have done much worse than spill food on the colonel." Charlie nodded in agreement.

"Like what?" I asked.

"I see you found her, gentlemen." It _was _Robert this time, decked out in a new starched, identical suit.

I stood up, and the three of us saluted to him."Sir, I'm...I'm...so sorry...about...that." I stuttered.

He dismissed it with a wave of his hand."Do not bother worrying about it, Miss Janeiro." he reached out and took my elbow in his gloved hand. Something tingly shot up my arm as he pulled me up and to his side. But then he let go."If you excuse us, gentlemen, Miss Janeiro has some clothing to wash."With another salute, he walked off toward his quarters. Apparently I was expected to follow. I smiled at Charlie and Forbes, gosh I wish I had friends like these in the future. The future, how long has it been? Frankly, I didn't miss it.

When we reached his place, he pulled out the uniform and led me to the washing room. A barrel filled with hot water and a wash bored. I can't use that! There is no "Normal Cycle" on it. Instead, he gave me some powdery thing, and a brush. Yippee, dry cleaning. I began working right there, hoping I wouldn't rub a hole in it. But Robert stopped me."Oh no, come with me please, I want you under my supervision."

"Whatever you say."

We went back to his quarters. He sat at his desk, begin to write something with a beautiful quill pen, while I made myself comfortable on the floor, spreading a sheet and putting the dirty uniform on it, and started to brush. I think he hates me.

* * *

**Robert's POV**

Every so often, Miss Janeiro's hands would tire, and she would stop the swishing sound that came from the brush against the uniform. She was tired, he understood that, and it was dark outside, and it was raining, and she probably wanted to sleep. But whenever that would happen, he would look up from his letter to his mother, and say,"Keep scrubbing Miss Janeiro."

And she would mumble a 'Yes Sir' and keep scrubbing. He could not be soft with her. Must not. This was the army. This was _war_, not a garden party. He needed her to understand that. Good God she probably hated him.

Every so often, Robert would look up from his paperwork and watch her work. That cascading long waterfall of dark brown waves tumbling past her shoulders. But when she sensed his gaze and looked up, he would quickly avert his eyes back to his papers.

Dear Mother,

The men learn very quickly. Faster than white troops it seems to me. They are almost grave and sedate under instruction...and they restrain themselves. But the moment they are dismissed from drill, every tongue is relaxed, and every ivory tooth is visible...and you would not know from the sound of it that this was army camp. They must have had to learn this from long hours of meaningless, and inhumane work...to set their minds free so quickly. It gives them great energy. There is no doubt that we will lave this state as fine a regiment as any that had marched.

As Ever, Your Son,

Robert.

Suddenly Forbes burst into the room, wearing a black rain poncho, dripping on the nodded at Miss Janeiro, who stared at him, bemused, than approached Robert, tossing a document on his desk. Robert knew what it was."Please not this." he prayed silently.

Forbes confirmed it."They've done it."

Robert licked his lips and swallowed.

"Assemble the men."

**I better go sleep, if my eyes get any droopier I'll have to keep them open with toothpicks. :) Please review.**


	14. Attention

**Next chapter, batter up! Enjoy, and knock yourselves out. :)**

**BoosterSeat3: **I know right, I thought it was cute.

**Beagle Bug:**Oh that sucks, I can imagine how gross that must have been. Thanks! Why do so many ppl like Rob's POV more? :)

**YarisVamp:**Haha, brace yourself. ;)

**SakuraBlossom:**I really don't want to, I'm a slave to happy endings. :) I will definetly check out your stories.

**smartyjonescrzy:**Oh good, your back. Good luck with the classes. A lot of people like Robert's POV more, why? :) I must sound dense right now, but who's canon? Is that Rob? Yay for the Smarty Points! :) I wouldn't want to go back either, I love history too, especially the 1800's. :) It did give me the second wind, actually, that's why I'm up typing this in the wee hours, lol. Thanks!

* * *

Robert sat for a minute at his desk, open and closing his eyes slowly, before abruptly scooting the chair away and standing up. "You may stay here, Miss Janeiro, there is no need for you to come." He said, putting on his suit jacket and hat.

"No, I want to go too." I cried, like a little kid begging for candy before dinner.

He looked at me, as if debating whether or not to grant my request."Miss Janeiro, it's raining, you might catch cold."

I snorted. _"There is no Tylenol here, 'Miss Janeiro', you're on your own, kiddo."_ I thought to myself. I gave him a standing-you're-ground look.

Robert pulled on what looked like a dark-blue, almost black, 1800's version of a rain poncho. He took off his cap and ran a frustrated hand through his thick, soft-looking hair, before placing it back on his head."Miss Janeiro, I will not stand here arguing with you. If you would like to come, be my guest." he surrendered.

"Thank you, sir." I smiled at him and made my way to the door. But he stopped me.

"Miss Janeiro, are you wearing _that _in the rain?" he gave me an odd look.

I looked at my jeans, navy jacket, and Converse."What's wrong with it?" I was afraid that I looked like the densest person on the planet. I probably was.

"Your jacket won't last a minute without getting soaked." He pulled his poncho off and handed it to me.

"Oh, it's okay, you don't have to do that." I reached out to hand it back to him.

He ignored it, obviously refusing to take it, and instead headed toward his door, and chivalrously held it open for me.

* * *

"Aaaaaatentiooooon! Battalion!" The officers shouted into the thick rain, which poured like a sheet in front of us, dulling the quality of our vision. The men, dressed in scratchy-looking coats and breaches with holes and mud on them stood straight and tall, in line formation, shivering in the cold, the rain drops bouncing off of the brims of their hats. I stood next to a dripping wet Robert, the rain water pouring off of the black hard bill of his cap, like a gutter, water-falling in front of his face. He must have been cold, but he did not shiver.

When the troops were finally quieted, and the officers standing in formation to our right, Robert spoke."In accordance with President Lincoln's wishes...you men are advised...that the Confederate Congress has issued a proclamation. It reads..."

The men exchanged conused and worried glances, as did the officers, all, save for Forbes, who stood straight ahead, unmoving and unblinking. Hushed mumbles swept through the crowd formation.

Robert opened the dripping paper, trying to shield it from the rain drops with his body, and began to read."Any negro taken in arms...against the Confederacy...will be immediately returned to a state of slavery."

The troop looked upset, and who could blame them? Trip was gritting his jaw, nonchalantly.

Robert glares down at the sheet of damp paper in his hand, swallows hard, and licks his dry lips, before continuing."Any negro taken in Federal uniform..." I saw Thomas stare hard, I think he was getting it,"...will be summarily..." Robert swallows again,"...put to death."

Angry whispers sweep through the crowd. Everyone is obviously disgusted by this act of racism.

Oh no. How could people do that? I gasp so loud that Robert stops to glance at me, before continuing. I had a feeling that this was just about to get worse."Any white officer taken in command of negro troops..."Robert stops to bounce his eyes from Forbes, to Charlie, to Mulcahy, and to Andrews, then sweeps swiflty down a row of other officers, both young and aging, which I haven't met yet."...will be deemed as inciting servile insurrection," English please,"...and shall likewise be put to death."

You can bet your sweet life I got that part.

Forbes slowly turns his head to look at Robert. The two best friends look at each other for a few moment, Forbes's face a stricken, pale shade of his usually peachy skin color. Now it was white, like the sheets in those painful officer's bunks.

Robert looked away first."Full discharges will be granted in the morning..."he sighs sadly, worriedly,"to all those who apply." But still, he looks at the soldiers with anxious hope.

"Dismissed!" he shouts, after which the order is repeated by other officers.

Something wrenches in my gut, anger? disgust? pity? This was not the type of early America I imagined.

Marty's voice echoes in my brain_."You know the future, it changes."_

Now that's creepy. He can talk to me through telepathic communication. I shudder.

Forbes slowly trudges past Robert, his eyes cast down."If you're not..."Robert's voice breaks a little,"...here in the morning, I...I...understand."

How terribly sad.

Forbes refuses to meet his eyes, and without answering, embarks to the officer's barracks. Robert sighs and looks up at the sky, tucking the wet paper into his wet, poncho-less suit. Poor guy.

The troops shuffle out, through the mud, heading back to their tents. I see Trip pause in front of a stricken, grey Jupiter."Sill want that blue suit nigga?" Jupiter doesn't answer, as Trip walks away, but just stands their, blinking in the rain, staring at nothing in particular.

There is a tap on my shoulder. I look up at Robert, who's gazing down at me sadly."Miss Janeiro, you must be tired, I insist you retire."

"Is this really true? The death thing?" I ask him, grateful for his poncho that he gave me."It's not fair."

He nods, staring up at the dark, cloudy sky."Miss Janeiro, you will soon find out that everything truly _is_ fair in love and war."

With that, he turns from me, and walks toward his private quarters in the officers' barracks. His shoulders hunched with 'the weight-of-the-world' hair and clothes soaked. I realize how much he cares. And something warms me, despite the cold. Something sweet and lovable about his character.

It almost pains me to see him walk away like this. Defeated.

**Aww, she likes him. Well, I'm gonna hit the sack, if I could just crawl over there, and not fall asleep on my mom's beloved carpet. Toodles. ;) Review please.**


	15. Dark Starless Nights

**I have been having a little...er...weather problems here, *thanx smarty*. Hope you like this chappy. Enjoy.**

**Beagle Bug: **I was thinking about Tom, and I've got the perfect place to put him, I promise, you just wait a few chapters, and you'll get him. :) Special for ya. ;)

**shadowlacrymossa:** Nice avi, yes, I really want a happy ending, I LOVE them. BTW, I'll take a look at your stories later.

**smartyjonescrzy:** Honey, you blew me over with your second wind, lol. That's one of my favorite quotes from GWTW, I love that, Mitchell is a genious. (I thought you would nontice.) BTW I like your Beuller story, very cute. Vote Ferris! The poncho thing was also to demonstrate how much Rob really cares. :)

**YarisVamp:** That's oky, it's still sweet of you to take the time. :)

* * *

**Alex POV**

I stayed for a moment longer under the thick rain, staring up at the starless sky, before I trudged after Robert, toward the direction of the barracks. When I got inside, I slipped of Robert's dark rain poncho, hanging it on a tall coat hangar by the door. Most of the officers were already inside, some were sitting on their beds, stricken looks on their pale faces, others were standing on their beds, trying to fill in the minor leaks in the wooden roof with torn pieces of dirty rags. I went to my bed, in front of Forbes and across from Charlie, and sat on the bed, pulling of my wet Converse, the stars logo on the side invisible because of a thick layer of fresh mud.

Charlie was already asleep, but not Forbes. He was propped on his pillow with his elbow, facing my direction. His usually laughing, dancing eyes looked dead, cold and hard. They seemed to bore right through me, as if I was invisible and he couldn't see me. I turned around to see what he was staring at. It was the sheet separating the officer's barracks with Robert's private quarters, and Forbes's eyes were burning holes in it.

I tugged on Forbes's sleeve, trying to rip him out of his trance."Are you alright?"

* * *

**Forbes POV**

He didn't react. She nudged his arm again, still he refused to react. After a few more tries, she gave up, pulled on those odd-looking shoes of hers, the ones with laces and and stars on the sides, and left her bunk. His eyes followed her as she walked down the long row of bunk beds until she reached the eit door, pulled the cotton flap open, and left the barracks. Forbes was curious as to what she was up to, but he was too upset to pursuit.

He would never forget the look on his friends face. He understands? He could not look Rob in the eyes, so he stared at his shoes, like a small child. He must have looked like a coward. He was disgusted with himself. BUt then again, Robert said that he could leave, that he was not here tommorow morning, when they sound the bugle wake up call and raise the Union flag just as the sun ascends into the sky. Then why wasn't he packing this very second? What was he still doing here? Why couldn't he just hit the road?

Forbes knew the answer.

Because he could not bare the look of betrayal on Rob's face when he woke up in the morning, to find out that his first officer and best friend had vanished without a trace. He wouldn't let him do this alone, Forbes thought as he watched Robert's silhouette walk passed the sheet, shoulders hunched and smoke flowing out of his ivory pipe. As irresponsible and selfish as Forbes thought he was, in truth he valued his best friend slightly more than his own life.

* * *

**Robert's POV**

Robert was pacing slowly across the room, a habit he never could get rid of. He slowly sucked on his pipe, an act he hoped _wouldn't_ become another stress habit. Robert felt foolish for hoping that the men will stay. Good God, some of his officers were probably having second thoughts. Who in their right minds would stay? Each time he paced past the the cotton flap over his doorway, he would pause and look at it, wondering what his men, and the lady, were thinking, even though he could not see them.

He remembered when the idea first came of a colored regiment. How reluctant he was to take this job. He felt selfish after, and occasionally still wondered if he accepted for he good of the men, the Union, or to not let his father down. He hated to disappoint his loving parents. He loved them and respected them deeply.

He was not going to abandon. He got this far. It was not his fault what the Confederate Congress decided. He despised the Confederacy with a passion. He knew from the beginning that this was not going to be a tea party, and with each passing day his work was not made any easier. Th only thing that did, however, was Miss Janeiro. Though he would never in a million years admit it out loud. She was odd, no question there, but she was an interesting person, who could have refused the job of Officer's Aide. But she did not. A woman like that _must _have a strong character, and he admired that.

He pushed her out of his mind abruptly, he would not think about that now, _must _not. He had a crises on his hands, a horrible disaster. He was convinced that his men were deserting by the hour, as he paced restlessly.

* * *

**Alex POV**

I rushed out of that stuffy building. It was dead as a grave there. The looks in the officer's eyes, so destroyed. Even Andrews's forehead was wrinkled in worry, they cared. I came out to get some fresh air, plopping myself down on my favorite, wet, slippery boulder, hugging myself from the cold, making my longish, frizzy wet hair cover my face like a curtain. I sat like that for about five minutes, getting soaked under the rain, until I heard a voice that made me jump.

"What are ya'll doin' hya honey? You gwine catchu cold. You should no betta than that." the voice with a soft Southern accent scolded softly. I looked up to find Mr. Rawlins looking down at me with a sad smile on his wrinkled, weathered face. He was holding a large stick, wearing one of those ponchos, he must have the guard tonight.

"Mr. Rawlins." I murmured, standing up and brushing myself off.

"Now honey, Mister Rawlins is my papa, you just go ahead and call me Rawlins." he drawled softly. Something about his voice was comforting to me.

"Then you call me Alex." I smiled.

"Darlin', I'll call you anything your lil' ole heart desires." he grinned, and I grinned back. He had a way of cheering one up, with his calm and soothing tone."Now you just tell ole Rawlins what a li'l lady like you is doin' out here all alone in the pourin' cats and dogs."

I laughed, btu then sobered."Everyone's deserting, Robert, er, the colonel, is worried that the offcers are deserting too."

"Whooo, honey, nobody's runnin' away, theys' wanna fight, part to avenge themselves, part for their own freedom. Don't you worry that pretty lil' head of yours, chile, you just gwine on back to bed, and I can promise you, that when you wake up tomorrow, each and every one of those rascals will be up at dawn, right there net to the officers, in them shinin' blue suits that Jupiter's all after. You'll see honey, your young colonel will be so surprised, you could knock him down with a feather." I had a feeling that he wasn't so sure, that he was just saying this too make me feel better.

I hesitated. "I don't know..."

"Honey, what is there to know? Nobody knows nothin' on this earth but the sweet Lord. You just trust ole' Rawlins, he been on this old earth a mighty longer time than you have darlin'. You just trust the lord, and he'll deliver." he smiled down at me, like father to his little girl. The way he looked at me, made me feel special, like a very precious present.

What he said was inspirational, renewed my faith."I will." I mumbled.

"That's a good honey." he chuckled, and patted my wet head."Now I'm gwine walk you back to your nice warm bed," I snorted,"so that nothin' or nobody hurts you on the way. Don't you know it's dangerous for a young lady t be out a this time a night?" he put his hand on my shoulder and steered me in the direction of the barracks.

**Why do I always type at night? LOL. Review please.**


	16. Glory Hallelujah

**Chapter...15? Batter up! ;)**

**shadowlacrymossa:** Thank you! BTW, I read The Day Sasuke Died, lol, that was good. Glad you liked Rawlins**.**

**smartyjonescrzy: **Maybe I should tone it down a knotch to make it less hazardous for your lungs. *winks* just teasing. Thank you so much! How do I type? I sit in the back of my Computer class, finish faster than everyone else, and work on my story while the teacher's not looking. :) Jk, lol.

**Beagle Bug: **Yay for babbling! Lol, sounds like _someones_ had a little too much sugar. lol. jk :)

**Anntrell: **I'm glad you like freshman year, lol, I only come to school because of the food. :) jk

**BoosterSeat3: **I will, when it fits. So does this mean you got the pen? ;)

* * *

Had a serious case of writer's block, didn't know what to right about, did what popped in mind.

**Robert POV**

Robert opened his eyes, early morning sunlight just beginning to stream from his window. He blinked a few times, realizing that he was ungracefully sprawled on his bunk, still in his leather boots and collard white shirt. He had been pacing well into the night, finally collapsing and passing out on his bed. His right foot was hanging off the side and his head was pressed tightly up against the wall. The ivory pipe lay on the floor, and he had a feeling his kepi was down there somewhere too. He had to get up, pick it up, and brush it off. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was exhausted. He kept closing his eyes, wishing that the sun would go down for a few more hours, but that was impossible. What kind of role model would he be for the troops if he...

The troops!

Oh no. Robert thought, as his head popped off of the pillow, barely missing the head board. What was he to do with the men gone? the officers? Forbes? What would he become? A one-man army? He moaned inwardly. He didn't want to be the laughing stock of Boston. A colonel who couldn't even keep his own men from running away, just barely after they had begun. But what there worse, how could he look his father in the eyes? He forced himself up on his legs, feeling and probably looking a fright. He glanced at his reflection in the 'looking-glass.' His hair was wild and stuck out in every direction, reminding him of his horse's mane, and his eyes were slightly fatigued. They weren't so droopy, which made Robert glad that he wouldn't have to spend the day prying them open with his fingers.

He picked up his coat and brushed it off, following with dark blue cap. He admired it for a moment, the intricate thread work, a gleaming gold color braided on the sides, with a matching bugle stitched in on the front, and the shining black bill, he had to admit, he was proud of it. But not proud of the fact that both suit coat and hat were wet. He groaned and muttered, stepping up to his big wooden chest full of almost identical looking outfits, and searched for his other suit and kepi.

He was in no hurry to see his deserted quad. All he wanted right now was coffee.

* * *

**Alex POV**

When I had woken up a few minutes before, (getting used to rising with the sun), I noticed that most of the officers were not in the quarters. I turned to the side. Forbes was not there either, his bunk was made up, the sheets and blanket tucked in neatly under the pillow. I was impressed that he could make up a bed better than I did, but not with the fact that he had deserted. It made me so angry. How could he do that? How could he just run away and leave his best friend all alone? Me all alone? Who does that? That big chicken!

I was still fuming as I pulled on my Converse and jacket, muttering quietly to myself and attracting strange glances from the remaining officers. Andrews chickened out too, ha! At least we still got Mulcahy, I thought, as I watched him reprimand to young sargeants. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. It was Charlie. He didn't run away.

I was so happy I almost hugged him, but dropped my arms at the last second because I was afraid of how that might look."You didn't leave!" I exclaimed.

He smiled shyly."Nobody-."

"Forbes! How could he? You are obviously a braver person than he is." I carried on stupidly. Later I wished I wasn't this deluded."And Rawlins told me no body's going anywhere, oh sure."

"Rawlins? You mean the-" I cut poor Charlie off again.

"Forbes is such a coward! A big chicken! A-" Charlie stopped me.

"He's right here." he said, but I was looking for someone to vent out my own stress, and the perfect target at the moment seemed to be Forbes.

"Never mind about that-wait, what?" I frowned.

"I didn't know that you feel that way about me, Ale, a 'big chicken', that's original." I swear I almost fainted. I wished that the floor opened up and swallowed me. But it didn't.

I slowly turned around, my eyes closed in embarrassment. That really cooled my jets. Slowly, I opened them. Forbes was smirking down at me, through the cigarless corner of his mouth. His eyes were full of laughter, dancing again. I slapped a hand over my big fat mouth. "I'm such and idiot." my hand muffled my speech.

Forbes laughed."Well, _darling_, I won't argue with you about_ that_." He winked and I knew that he was just kidding, that he didn't mind my foolish tongue-lashing. "I'm glad you woke up by yourself this time, I was coming here to do just that." They each put a hand on one of my shoulders and steered me out of the barracks, into the golden, triumphant sunrise.

"Are they gone?" I asked.

"Who? The soldiers?" Forbes played dumb, just to annoy me.

"No, the horses. Stop it Forbes." I joked.

He grinned."Each man has been accounted for." My jaw dropped to the muddy growned. I snapped it shut.

"No!" I murmured in disbelief.

Forbes rolled his eyes."That's exactly what I thought. Look for yourself."

And I did, the men were all standing straight in formation, and so were the officers. One man was blowing a bugle and four others were raising the star-spangled banner, it's red and white stripes bathing in the fiery-gold sunrise as it ascended. It was a very inspiring moment.

_Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away._

* * *

**Robert POV**

Robert's feet felt like lead as he trudged through the barracks with a sinking feeling in his stomach. At the end of the doorway he could see Forbes, with his usual relaxed posture, and Miss Janeiro's smaller frame next too him."Thank God." he whispered. Forbes had not left him, he wouldn't have to go through this alone.

He had finally found a fresh suit, and was buttoning up the double row of gold buttons, weaving them through the button holes on the cloth. When he got closer, her aised his eyebrows at Forbes, who had a cigar in his mouth, he'd have to tell him not to do that, and Miss Janeiro, who looked almost gleeful, barely able to contain herself.

He stopped in the doorway, pausing to button up to more shiny buttons. "Good morning, Major." he said softly, then nodded."Miss Janeiro."

When Forbes noticed him, he quickly spit the cigar out, and squashed it with the heal of his boot. Miss Janeiro stood up straighter, and Forbes saluted."Sir! Formed and ready! Sir!" he shouted. Robert was surprised, talk about enthusiasim.

"How many are left?" Robert asked meakly, bracing himself for the titanic impact of disapointment.

But Forbes smiled slightly, in a sneaky way, or perhaps he just imagined it? His eyes jumped to Miss Janeiro, who was biting her lower lip, perhaps to keep it from curling up? Robert squinted, buttoned up, another button, and stepped out of the doorway. He must go look for himself since it was obvious that he wasn't getting an answer from those two.

Stepping out into the sunrise, he squinted, but when his eyes adjusted, he could see all of the men, "formed-and-ready" along with the offiers. His friend Charlie beaming out him. Robert glowed on the inside as his officers erupted with a loud-n-proud,"ATTENTION!" Robert felt wobbly with surprise, the impact was strong, but it was far from disapointment.

"Glory Hallelujah." he murmured, finishing the last button.

Though he did not know it, the look in his eyes took a certain lady's breath away.

My back hurts from stiff typing. Lol. Review please.


	17. Everytime We Touch

**My mom's at the hospital, about to have a baby! Eeek! Not even joking.**

**BoosterSeat3: **Haha, I did that with Cowboy Casanova. Lol, we laughed so hard we fell off the couch. :) Can't wait to see Rob!

**shadowlacrymossa: **It was pretty good. You should write more! Thank you.

**Beagle Bug: **Sounds like you could use some chocolate. ;)

**smartyjonescrzy: **Yeah, I know she passed away. That's sad. I love that movie, and everyone keeps dying. :( I think the only ones that might be left are, Prissy, (Butterfly McQueen), and the little boy who played Beau. I LOVED your music videos, both of them. awesome job, so sad that I teared up a little. Thanks for adding me! I feel like I won an Emmy! lol

**YarisVamp: **Thanks so much! Lucky! Mine was like...fifteen days ago.

* * *

**Alex POV**

When Robert finally dismissed the troops to breakfast, his voice wavering slightly by an octave as he shouted the order, no doubt from surprise, pride, and simply joy, he all but collapsed against one of the wooden posts of the officers' barracks. He must have thought he was alone, for he relaxed and loosened up a little, dropping his shoulders. I watched as he took off that adorable blue kepi of his and ran a hand through his thick, soft hair. Again he let out a grateful, though exhausted sigh, exhaling deeply as though someone had lifted a dark, stressful ton off of his broad shoulders."Glory Hallelujah." he murmured again in a soft whisper.

I cleared my throat."Sir?" I squeaked pathetically, taking a tentative step toward him.

Robert looked startled slightly, for he propelled himself off of the wall-post straightened him shoulders from his just-slouching position, and yanked the kepi back over his head sharply."Ahem." he fake-coughed, then turned to face me."Yes, what can I do for you, Miss Janeiro?" he asked.

_A huge bucket of Ghiradelli chocolate from San Francisco would definatly help._ Instead I said,"I'm _your_ aide, I'm here to help _you_."

He beckoned for me to follow him, a longish ways from the barracks, on the east-front side of the camp, where a large wooden building with a straw-covered roof stood. When we got closer, the sharp smell of a mixture of hay and manure stung my nostrils, and I quickly plugged my nose. Though Robert was too mature to do what I was doing, I noticed that he too started to breath through his mouth instead. From inside, I could here the loud laughter of men, and neighing.

"These are the stables." He said matter-of-factly, with a sweeping gesture towards the large, hole-filled building.

"Thank you, I never would have guessed." I joked, but he gave me a look that showed that he clearly was not amused. Fail.

He cleared his throat. "Ladies first." He replied, with a slightly sarcastic and over-exaggerated sweep of his arm. I laughed; perhaps maybe Boy Scout did have sense of humor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him with the tiniest of smiles on his lips; he looked almost pleased with himself.

We entered the stables, and I immediately froze in wonder, so sharply, that Robert almost ran into me. There was a long row of stable stalls, at least ten of them, filled with huge, strong horses, whinnying in high pitched snorts, their large black hooves beating on the hay-covered ground, beating the straw flat. They tossed their long, silky manes side to side, their tight muscles stretching across their powerful chests and shoulders.

They were all taller than me.

"Wow!" I stared like a little kid on her first trip to the Monteray Bay Aquarium.

It was amzing how beautiful the horses were.

Robert cocked his head at me."Miss Janeiro, from afar, one might even say that you have never ridden a horse before, not even as a child."

I snorted. That's an understatement.

Robert chivalrously ignored the 'lady-like' noise thought just erupted from my nose, and touched my arm slightly, just enough for a big mental reaction on my part, and led me down the row of horses. I walked ahead, and saw Trip, Thomas, Rawlins, Jupiter, and a small boy shoveling hay. I guess it was their tent's turn to do the dirty work. I smiled at Rawlins, who beamed back in "_I-told-you-so"_ smile. When Trip saw me, he opened his mouth in a "_I-have-a-comment-sharp-enough-to-cut-you-to-ribbons_" way. How heart-warming. But he immediately snapped in shut when he saw Robert walking behind me.

When Thomas saw him, he smiled."Hello, Robert!"

Robert only nodded, as if he_ hadn't _known Thomas since the day he started walking."Private."

Thomas's jaw dropped.

Robert only walked on, until he reached the end of the stables, and stopped in front of a powerful, magnificent, brown horse. It was a beautiful animal, the perfect symbol of strength and indomitable spirit. Wow. Robert placed his gloved hand on it's head, and gently combed his fingers through it's mane. He spoke softly to it's ear, barely audible, so quiet I couldn't make out the words.

He turned to me.

"This is Glory." he murmured, affectionately scratching it behind the ears.

What a perfectly suitable name."She's beautiful." I whispered in awe.

He looked at me."Oh no, it's a he."

I was intrigued, but too scared to touch it, Glory was so much bigger than me, he wa beautiful but still intimidating. Robert noticed my hesitation. "Go ahead, it's alright."

* * *

**Robert's POV**

Robert was extremely proud of his horse, Glory, he had ridden him since his mid-teens and into manhood. He especially remembered warm summer nights when he and Forbes were just teenagers, and would race through the back roads of the hilly countryside less than a mile from Boston, Forbes' on his own horse, Nelson, and they would gallop to an open field, make a camp fire, and took about their futures, and hopes and dreams of joining the army. Sometimes they would even take Thomas or Charlie. He sighed out of his trance, and glanced at Miss Janeiro.

There was a rare mixture of fear and admiration in her blue eyes, the ones that reminded him of the sea, as she gazed at Glory. She reached out to touch him, hesitated, and let her hand drop at her side.

Robert's brown eyes softened."Go ahead, it's alright." he coaxed.

She bit her lip, and slowly reached out again, but stopped halfway from the Glory's back. Then Robert did something he never would have guessed that he would ever do. He did what some would consider bold, for he reached out and took her hand in his own, black-leather-gloved-one, and put her hand on Glory's smooth brown back, and covered her hand with his own. Something tingled in his palm, but he refused to remove it. He wondered why he was acting like this? It was not like him to do so. Still, he did not move, and neither did she. He turned to look at her, only to find her gazing back. Her head was cocked, and her eyes sparkled under black, sooty eyelashes. Neither said a word, they were lost in their own little world.

Until the bugle sounded.

They both jumped as Thomas and the other men, whom Robert did not recognize, quickly jogged out of the stables and into the courtyard. It was drilling time. With a little self-control and no finesse, Robert removed his hand from hers, and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck with it. She looked away, and was it his imagination, or did she blush?

"I...uh...the drill...I best go supervise the men's progress." Robert told himself to stop acting like a fool, since when was he this 'articulate'?

Miss Janeiro nodded, avoiding his eyes."Yeah, er, alright."

"You're welcome to stay, or follow me." he cocked his head at the door.

She nodded, as he robotically turned and left, biting his lip.

**Didn't know Rob's horses' real name, so made it up. Review please!**


	18. War Memories

**Hey guys, trying not to get caught on fanfiction, lol. Review please. Enjoy!**

**Beagle Bug:**Who doesn't? lol, it's a boy.

**BoosterSeat3:**I'm psychic and control your play-list. lol

**High Queen Crystal: **Oh yes, glad you're back. :) I too, must return to the evil world of homework. Kids in my high school call it Alcatraz.

**smartyjonescrzy:** It was written with you in mind. :) I just knew you'd love it. Weird, I was actually thinking of having Alex ride that beautiful horse. (So lucky you have horses!) I live in the suburbs, where it's boring. You know, in Providence and Boston, they have these little perfume stores, and they sell horse manure perfume bottles there, and hamburgers, fresh cut grass, etc...

**YaRisVamp:**Haha, I know right. :)

**meggieleigh:**Hi Meggie, thanks for reviewing. :) BTW, if you click on fanfiction story search, and type in "Robert Shaw glory" more stories will show up, (they were just in the misc. movies category.)

**Summer903:** Sure :)

**shadowlacrymossa: **Your wish is my command. lol

**Anntrell: **I would write a book, but the Glory copy-right won't let me. :) lol, Tanks so much for the compliment.

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**Alex POV**

I watch him go, his boots making crunching sounds in the blonde hay. I put my hand on Glory's head and gently scratch behind his ear. He snorts as my fingers travel down his neck and to his back. I pat it. That was pretty awkward with Robert. Awkward in a "tummy-tingle" way. The way he looked at me, and the way that he spoke to me. I'm just like a bubbling school-girl with a childish crush on a college senior.

I was a little disgusted with myself.

"Oh, Glory, Glory..." I sing-songed softly to him, leaning my forehead against his long neck."What am I supposed to do?"

Stupid Girl! Stupid Girl! Stupid Girl!

The horse only blinked at me, before moving it's head away from my face.

I looked around his stall, when my eyes landed on a bucket in the corner. Inside were at least six different kinds of brushes. Being the total "genius" and "horse-know-it-all" that I am, I stared at the 'thingy' that looked to me like you would use it for hair. I picked it up and ran it through Glory's silky black mane. He seemed to enjoy that, for he snorted and brought his head closer to my hand.

Encouraged, I picked up another brush; it was thick and flat, about the size of my hand in length, and a strap in the middle of it. I had seen people in movies brush the shining coat of the horses with it, so I slipped it on. Getting braver, I ran the brush through Glory's mud-brown coat. I brushed his back, I brushed his stomach, and I brushed his side. He snorted and I smiled, he seemed to enjoy it.

In between brush strokes, my mind tiredly, yet increasingly annoyingly, kept jumping back to Robert. I felt butterflies. Not the sickly dizzying ones that dwell in the pit of your stomach and make you want to double over and vomit, but the stubbornly annoying kind, that made you flush with meaningless excitement.

I glanced back over my shoulder to the door. It was a longs way down, and it looked cold out side, though the sun was shining. Robert told me I could stay here, or come with him. I looked back again.

It was tempting.

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**Robert POV**

Robert stood on the porch-like walk-way that each and ever wooden building in the camp had, bouncing slightly on the heels of his feet to try to stay warm. His calculating brown eyes were watching the men jog back and forth, examining them intently. He was glad that they sent him Mulcahy. The sergeant was powerful, strong, and unmoving, like a mountain, showing no emotion and did not seem to mind belittling the men. Perhaps his attitude was over the top, too harsh for Robert's taste, but as long as he could teach the men properly, Robert would allow him to act so.

"Hi." Someone said. Robert turned slightly. It was Miss Janeiro.

_Hi?_

She looked cold, her breath came out in little clouds of fog, but her blue eyes were bright, as usual.

"The stables are warmer, you know." he replied nonchalantly, as if her being here or there made absolutely no difference to him whatsoever.

She eyed him

A few moments they pass in silence, until Robert feels her electric blue eyes piercing his body. Something about the way she is doing that makes him feel uncomfortable and he keeps clearing his throat. Apparently, she notices, since she begins to speak.

"What's that?" she asks him curiously, but not rudely.

"What's what?" he murmurs, looking back at her.

"This," she reached up and tugs gently at his collar, her fingers accidentaly graze against the bare skin of his neck, and he freezes. Miss Janeiro must have noticed since she quickly retracted her hand, "that cut on your neck."

Robert's leather-gloved hand immediately flies up to his throat, his fingers gently tracing the small scar on his neck."Antietam." he answers gravely.

"How did it happen?" she asks softly. He glances down at her small frame. Her eyes are full of sympathy.

"Sharp scraps of cannon ball shell." he replies.

She nods."Did you loose anyone?"

The horrible memory of his comrade's head exploding in front of him, his blood and tissue staining Robert's back-then-captain suit, some of it landing on his cheek as he buried his head in his arms, his saber sticking straight out. His comrade's last haunting cry,"For God's sakes come on!" still echoed in his brain. Robert shouted for Charlie and Forbes, hoping, praying that at least they were alive. They were. After another cannonball exploding barely thirty feet away from him, Robert could not take it anymore. It was not what he expected. But what did he expect? It wsa war. Robert fell to the ground next a sadly dead man, covering his head with his arms.

He was terrified. He could not breath, he could not think, and he could not move. He just lay their, biting his lip and trying to block the sounds of exploding cannons that were forever imprinted on his mind. He closed his eyes. feeling the blood trickle down his neck. His kepi flew off somewhere, but he didn't care about it. He just lay in the grass and thought about his family, until he passed out, and was later awoken by that old black man with the kind eyes that was now in his regiment. The memories were too painful. So all he could offer Miss Janeiro in response was a nod that he could barely muster, the lump in his throat was that strong.

Older men start wars, but it is the younger men who fight and die for them.

He felt a hand on his arm. Robert glanced down. Obviously it was Miss Janeiro. She removed it quickly, but Robert wouldn't have cared if she left it. For once he would not have reprimanded her for it. It was nice to have a touch of understanding sympathy in a brutal war, like a splash of color on a white canvas.

They watched the drilling together in silence, the the awkward tension was obvious to both, as Mulcahy jogged along-side the troops and shouted,"One-two-one-two-three!," in a steady cadence.

Finally he shouted,"ComPAAANNIIIEEEEE! HAAAAAlt!"

The troops looked exhausted for running nonstop for so long. Robert even pitied them. He noticed the older man, the one that he saw at Antietam, the grave-digger, was leaning on his knees, trying to stand tall, breathing heavily. The whole squad looked about read to colapse, Thomas did. The other men ignored him, sputtering and coughing in the dust, they were too busy trying to keep themselves up. When Mulcahy saw Thomas on the ground, he dashed towards him at the speed of light."You're not dismissed boy-o! Get up!"

Thomas's gasping voice was muffled, but Robert was sure that he meant,"Yes sir!"

Mulcahy bent to his face."I said get up!"

Thomas nodded, gasping and wheezing.

"You fall out when I say and _not_before!" Mulcahy added, up in Thomas's face.

Thomas made a move to do so but collapsed into himself instead.

Mulcahy was outraged. He kicked Thomas in the side, and Thomas doubled over in pain."I said GET UP!"

Robert couldn't take it anymore. He was his friend for God's sakes.

"Sergeant Mulcahy!"

* * *

**Alex POV**

I felt sorry for Robert. War is not a pretty sight. And to do what he did, what so many men were doing right now, well, that takes guts.

I felt sorry for Thomas too, being molested by an angry Irish sergeant was not a pretty picture either. I did no envy the guy.

Robert's pretty es weer sharp and alert as he examined the scenario, and he shouted Mulcahy's name.

The swears and coughing was silenced, and Mulcahy straightened and quickly made his way over to us. He stood tall, jaw set, and eyes hard. He reminded me of a giant grizzly bear, as he seemed to glare down at Robert, but then I realized, he wasn't glaring, it was just the way he was. Nevertheless, Mulcahy looked intimidating, and I noticed that Robert was trying to keep from chewing on his lip.

"At ease, sergeant." Robert allowed.

Mulcahy spread his feet apart, and clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes had not softened.

"I have no doubt," Robert swallowed here,"that you are a fair man, Mulcahy..." It was obvious that he was trying to soften the angles.

Mulcahy stood tall an unmoving, like a mountain.

That was obviously not the reaction Robert was hoping for, but he continued anyway,"but wonder if you are treating the men too hard."

Mulcahy seemed to be biting his tongue, trying hard not to say anything out of line.

Behind us, I saw Andrews dismiss the troops to lunch, and stoop down on his knee to see if Thomas was alright. Thomas nodded, got up and followed the men out.

"You disagree?" Robert was saying, when I turned my attention back to them. By Mulcahy's stern expression, you would have thought that the roles were reversed, that it was not Robert higher i rank, but the sergeant."You may speak freely."

Finally, Mulcahy looked down at Robert, square in the eye, seeming to tower over us. Robert looked like he was forcing himself not to look down at his shoes."The boy's your friend is he?" Mulcahy finally said, sharply.

Robert nodded."We grew up together, yes."

Mulcahy leaned in closer as if to tell him a wee secret."Let him grow up some more."

Ouch.

Really, that burned.

Even for me.

Though I barely know Thomas.

Robert looked like a school boy reprimanded in front of his classmates, and his eyes sneaked a glance, embarrasadly, in my direction. He mustered a nod.

"Will that be _all_, sir?" Mulcahy sounded annoyed, and like he was late for something.

"Yes, thank you." Robert mumbled, saluting him,"Dismissed."

Mulcahy saluted back, without even bothering a glance in my direction, turned on his heel, and marched off without another word.

**Thanks! Review please! Sorry for grammar.**


	19. Drowning in You

**Hey guys, sorry for the long wait.**

**Not only was school and homework slowing me down, but so was writer's block.**

**Forgive me. ;)**

**I just sat down and typed this all out, making it up as I go.**

**Hope it's not too bad.**

**I'm a little...proud of myself. Lol.**

**Enjoy!**

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**shadowlacrymossa:**Lol, your wish is my command. (;

**BeagleBug:** Yeah, I know, it was super sad. :( I even kinda feel sorry for the Confederates too, they had different beliefs but they were still people. Sad.

**otose:**Lol Thanks so much! Yeah, Matt is adorable there. ;)

**Anntrell:** Sorry for not replying on the previous chapter, or did I? But still thank you so much! :D

**meggieleigh:** You're totally welcome, I'm glad you liked the horse part.

**CCPhantom:** Thanks for reviewing! When I watched it, they didn't even have a_ category _for glory. I was so sad, lol.

**YarisVamp:**Aww, thank you, that ment a lot, that's exactly how I feel about reviews. :) I'm sorry about your bad day, but a friend once told me *No matter how bad your day was, the next one will always be better* ;)

**Pyrena Pheonix TheFireGoddess**: LoL! I LOVE this movie too. I saw it in history and I'm like "Dad! You HAVE to get this movie, you'll love it!" lol.

**smartyjonescrzy:**I would be stressing too, I mean, war is really scary, no matter how old you are, but especially if you're young. Ah! A body brush! *Smacks forehead* it seems like such an obvious name. Lol. Thanks, I can GUARENTEE that I will need your horse expertice? spelled right? in the near future. Haha, that is funny, but at our school, Fanfiction is blocked, so it's even harder to get on, lol, my "techno-geek" friends have actually figured out how to unblock it, and they do it for me all the time, lol, we are so bad. ;)

**Ash:**Lol, I'm FAR from done. Brace yourself.

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**Charlie POV**

Charlie groaned as he opened his eyes. He was so sore he couldn't move. He didn't want to move. The squeaky, hard cot he slept on totalled his back. He didn't feel like getting up this morning. He never did. But he always dragged himself out of bed anyway and didn't stop feeling so low until his traditional morning cup of coffee. He turned his head to look at the two neat rows of cots around him. The officers were still sleeping, snoring loudly, all save for Miss Janeiro, who also snored, but not in the repulse, nasal way, but rather in sweet, angelic little wuffles. She too, was still asleep, curled up into a ball under one of her own standard, ridiculously thin army blankets.

Charlie flipped to his side.

Andrews was also awake, staring at Charlie, blinking occasionally. Charlie quickly flipped on to his other side to avoid any awkward conversation with the man. Apparently, Andrews did not get the message.

"Sir?"

Charlie groaned inwardly."Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Do you not agree that Miss Janeiro does not belong here?" he asked.

Charlie was shocked. Was that_ all _the man ever thought about? He was going to _drown _in his envy."Go back to sleep, Lieutenant."

"But sir," he protested, the captain quickly cut him off.

"That's an _order_." Charlie whispered sternly. It was too early for this, and he wanted to sleep.

Their disagreement must have been loud, but Charlie would never imagine that it was loud enough to wake Miss Janeiro up. It was barely above a whisper, and she was well known among the officers for her to sleep through the bugle call, expertly leaving Robert out of the loop. Though Charlie would never be able to understand how she could sleep in the cot next to Forbes's. The man could _snore_.

Miss Janeiro, or _Alex_, as she insisted on being called, stretched from her position and lifted her head. She blinked several times as she looked around the room, her eyes slowly getting used to being opened. Silver light filtered through the cracks in the wall here and there, indicating that the sun was just beginning to rise outside. Charlie guessed that they had about forty-five minutes left of sleep, and he wasn't wasting anymore time. Today was going to be a long day. He closed his eyes and flipped on to his stomach to go back to sleep. He listened to Alex's hushed movements as she climbed out of bed.

Charlie listened to her put on her odd-looking shoes, the ones with the stars on the ankles. He wondered where she had gotten them. He never seen anything like those before. He listened to her leave, whisper-singing a strange tune, a song he never heard of.

"I can't help myself...I'm addicted to a life of material...It's some kind of joke...I'm obsessively opposed to the typical!"

Charlie frowned in his drowsiness. What song was that? It sounded short and choppy, nothing like the flowy, opera-like music he was used to. Charlie thought about going after her, but sleep fogged his mind and caved in.

* * *

**Alex POV**

I was surprised with myself this morning, as I stepped out into the silver light of the rising sun, not gold like yesterday's rise, the glow that matched Robert's eyes. I was surprised to be in an incredibly decent mood, and at six A.M. too! I admit that I was_ far _from a morning person, but today I felt like one. Despite the horrible disaster on my head, a lump of oily, unbrushed, flat waves. It felt like I hadn't washed my hair in ages, though it couldn't have been more than a week. I barely had time in the day, and had to rise early, (simply an impossible task for me), when I needed to wash it again.

I hated the process.

I didn't exactly have any Pantene on me at the moment, obviously, and was stuck with using this weird, soapy-smelling 1800's version of shampoo. I liked Pantene better.

I walked over to a barrel that was filled with ice cold water, it was just barely higher than my waist. I dipped my hand in it, and quickly yanked it back out. It was freezing, and guess who's head was going in it? Yours truly. Slowly, I put my hair into the ice cold water, sliding the hair strands a fraction of an inch at a time. Then I took a deep breath and dunked my whole head in. That was a mistake. The icy water pierced my skin and I quickly yanked it out of the water, the pain throbbing in my head, talk about brain freeze. Well. at least the worst was done, I thought cheerfully, pouring the thick, creamy 'shampoo' on my head and massaging it in.

I decided to sing, (off-key as usual), quietly to somehow get my mind off of the cold, and shivers that raked through my body. I always sang in the shower and this was no different."Fame, doin' it for the fame...'cause we wanna live the life...Of the rich and famous...Fame, doin' it for the fame...'cause we gotta taste for champagne...And endless fortune..." Lady Gaga was the first thing to enter my mind.

* * *

**Robert POV**

Robert straightened his woolen navy blue jacket and looked in the mirror. His mother always told him that he was the most handsomest young man in Boston, as he examined his tired brown eyes in his reflection in the mirror. His mother would probably say he was handsome even if he had a wart the size of a silver dollar on his forehead. He placed his cap securely on his head. There wasn't much of a difference. Robert wondered, who was he 'dressing' up for? Robert knew the answer. The troops, of course, to look more responsible. He snorted at the pathetic lie to himself. No, that was not it.

He wondered why, as he yanked the kepi off his head and raked a hand through his thick, soft, brown hair in frustration, before placing it back on his head where it belonged. He took one last glance at his reflection in the mirror, throwing the dark blue, cape-like cloak over his shoulders as he left the room.

He was up a little early and he needed coffee. Robert thought, as he made his way through the barracks full of sleeping, snoring officers, especially Forbes. Robert smiled in amusement at Forbes spread out on his cot, making frightful noises that were barely muffled by his pillow. It was when he stepped out of the barracks that he heard something else.

It was singing.

Or at least it sounded like it was supposed to be. It sounded more like a chant, and as he turned a corner around one of the buildings, he realized it was Miss Janeiro, washing her hair in one of the washing barrels.

"All we care about is...runway models, Cadillacs and liquor bottles...Give me something, I wanna be...Retro glamour, Hollywood, yes we live for the..." she was singing, gingerly washing out the lye soap from her hair. Robert stayed out of view and listened in shock and amazement.

He wondered what a runway model was, perhaps a model for a ship, or a locomotive, but a _runway_? It was beyond him. What in the world was a Cadillac? Retro glamour? He had heard his sisters use the term "glamour" more than once, especially Susanna, ever since they were old enough to go to balls. Who was Hollywood? Liquor bottles, he _definitely_ knew what those were.

He listened silently with interest, hidden behind a wooden wall of the barracks as she continued."I...can...see...myself in the movies...With my picture in the city lights! Photograph my mind...and whatever else you'd like to shoot...You decide!"

Robert's jaw dropped. Movies? What was moving? He was proud of himself that he knew what a photograph was. Shooting? Women were talking about guns and war too?

"All we care about is...Pornographic girls on film and body plastic...Give me something...I wanna see television and hot blondes in odd positions" Robert almost fainted. He had an idea where she learned the chant from. It must have been off of the Boston docks, many sailors were there, they were always deluded from spending too much time at sea, and always spoke in "ghastly language" as his father put it.

But then Miss Janeiro exploded."Fame, doin' it for the fame! 'Cause we wanna live the life of the rich and famous! Fame, doin' it for the fame 'cause we gotta taste for champagne and endless fortune!"

It was so sudden that Robert jumped and stumbled around the corner, catching and himself against the wall. Miss Janeiro saw him and froze, her hair dripping tears of icy water back in the barrel, forming small ripples on its surface. Robert was embarrassed to be caught listening to her, and by the looks of it, she was too. She took a step backwards as he steadied himself. But something happened, she slipped and fell head first in the large dark icy barrel, past her waist.

Robert panicked. He knew that that must have felt like falling through thin ice. He rushed to her, shouting her name."Ale-", even in this moment he caught himself,"-Miss Janeiro!"

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**Alex POV**

It happened so fast, first I was staring at Robert's bewildered face, the next thing I knew I was somersaulting into the dark, chilling barrel. A little over half of my body was inside, and I believe that I actually touched the bottom with my face. I couldn't tell if I was right or not because I was too numb. Numb to everything but the pain. The cold teared at my skin and I couldn't breath, I couldn't scream, and my brain wasn't working enough to command my body to push itself out of the water. I couldn't think about anything but the pain. It coursed like fire, burning my body with icy flames.

Then I heard someone calling my name from far away. Strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me out of the water. I must have been under the water for less than ten seconds, but to me it felt like an eternity. Robert still held on to me, as I shivered violently and gasped wildly in his arms. All I could think of was how cold I was, and I leaned into him taking in deep breaths of the blessed air. It was freezing, and tt didn't help that it was less than fifty degrees and cloudy outside.

"Miss Janeiro, are you alright?" he asked calmly, yet somehow urgently, as his concerned eyes searched my face. Surprisingly I didn't feel embarrassed by my latest episode, I was enjoying it too much in his arms, but I nodded for him. He released me, and pulled off his cloak, wrapping me with it, vigorously rubbing my upper arms to get the heat going. He took hold of both of my hands and huffed his warm breath on them, rubbing them also. Then he took hold of me again, and led me into the barracks.

When we entered, most of the officers were already gone, though some were still there, making their beds and and staring blankly at us. Robert ignored them as he led me into his quarters. "We have to get you warmed up," he sat me down on his cot, then turned to find another blanket,"or you might get a cold, or worse, fever."

Robert said the word 'fever' as if he were talking about the plague, or something as serious and deadly as cancer or AIDS. Then I rememberd, of course it was deadly, Tylenol, etc, weren't invented yet! I thought in shock. The blanket was light brown and kind of soft as he draped it over my shoulders, when he was done, he stood back and looked at me, his beautiful brown eyes troubled and deep in thought. "I'll be right back." he murmured.

* * *

**Robert POV**

Robert was worried. The short November days were quickly turning into even shorter December ones, and the temperature was dropping just as fast. He could easily guess what Miss Janeiro was feeling, he too, had once fell into water that cold, maybe even colder, on the winter he turned seventeen.

He was sick the next day, though extremely lucky for not getting fever. He shuddered, as he searched for Andrews. The man had been attending Yale for almost a year, practicing medicine, until the war started, and he was forced to stay home. He didn't know as much as a professional, but he was still handy to have around. Robert found him in the courtyard, chatting with Forbes, loitering.

But Robert dismissed. As he approached, both men silenced and saluted him. Robert made his salute quick and irritated."Leutenant Andrews."

Andrews stood straight."Sir!"

"Miss Janeiro fell into a barrel of ice water, and I believe she is in shock, and perhaps in danger of getting fever." Robert explained in one breath. Forbes's mouth opened in a perfect O, and his eyebrows were so high up a little more and they would reach his hairline. But Andrews looked almost a little smug.

Robert glared slightly and gritted his teeth.

Andrews wiped the look clean off his face and replaced it with one of professional concern."Are her clothes soaked?" he asked.

Robert struggled not to roll his eyes at the obvious question."Yes."

"I see." Andrews murmured."How is she feeling?"

Robert pursed his lips in impatience."Please come see her."

"Yes, sir." Andrews muttered, his head bowed, heading in the direction of the barracks.

Forbes followed also, out of thick curiosity for the well-being of his friend.

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**Alex POV**

I looked up as Andrews walked into the room, kneeling in front of me. He didn't say a word at first, until he checked my pulse."How are you feeling?" he asked begrudgingly.

"F-fine." I mumbled, as Robert and Forbes came into the room. Andrews didn't look convinced. But I _was _fine, just frozen, and a little embarrassed, no need to make a huge fuss out of me. Forbes stayed out of the way, no doubt trying to keep his amused expression hidden from Robert.

"She needs to change into different clothes." Andrews told Robert and Forbes. The men blushed, except for Forbes, who let out a laughing snort. Robert's liquid brown eyes froze as he flashed Forbes a hard, reprimanding look. Forbes sobered.

"And some hot coffee would do her good." Andrews added. Robert gave a short nod and looked at Forbes.

"Forbes?"

Forbes gave a quick nod and left the room. I stood up and walked out of Robert's quarters into the barracks. I immediately noticed a small black sack on my bed. Frowning, I went over to it and opened it. Inside was a fresh new outfit, exactly the same as the wet one I was currently wearing, complete with a uniform jacket and a new pair of Converse. There was also a note, written on lined paper and folded twice. I could feel Robert and Andrews' eyes on me as I pulled it out and read it.

_I had a feeling you would need it today. ;)_

_-Marty_

I bit down a smile and picked up the duffel bag. Robert and Andrews' stepped out of Robert's quarters to let me change. When I was done, Robert ordered me to stay inside, (handing me another blanket), until my hair was dry and I was warm. It was pretty sweet, I could tell he was genuinely concerned. Then they left.

I sat on Robert's cot, examining the room. He kept it pretty tidy, which was more than I could say for my own room back home. Across the room, papers atop his desk were stacked in boyishly organized piles, a delicate feather-quill in an inkwell rested in its designated spot on the corner of his cherry-wood desk, a large Shakespeare volume lay on his night stand, opened past the middle, a satin-red bookmark placed carefully between the unevenly cut pages.

I always had a hard time reading Shakespeare in school, I thought as I heard someone shuffle in.

I looked up to find Forbes standing beside me, handing me a hot cup of black coffee. I took it from him, tasting it. It was super bitter. I made a face that sent Forbes laughing.

"Alright," he sighed, when he was done."Are you going to tell me what really happened." his eyes sparkled in playful amusement.

My own eyes twitched."Nothing to tell. I just fell in."

"You just _fell in_?" he repeated. I nodded."How?" he pressed.

I cheeks turned red and as hot as the cup of coffee I was holding. That only made Forbes more interested."Tell." he commanded.

"I...noticed Robert and I...well...sort of tripped...and fell...in." I mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

"Into a barrel of water that is about half your height?" he whispered. I looked at him, and noticed that his whisper was from laughing and talking at the same time.

"Yeah." I said slowly.

He cocked his head."How is that possible? It's not even eight o'clock yet and you've already managed to stir up our highest-ranking officers." He winked at my responding glare.

"I...don't know."

Forbes let out his breath and started laughing as he stood up to leave."Janeiro, if we had you as a secret weapon, we could rule the world!" he let out another roar."I noticed Trouble has a hopeless attraction to you." he winked.

I moaned in embarrasment."Go away." He was making me realize how embarrasing the fall in front of Robert was.

Forbes threw his head back and laughed as he stepped out of the room, the happy sound of it ringing through the barracks.

**My back is stiff, and my stomach is demanding to be fed. Review please, Ciao.**


	20. Distributing Arms

**Sorry for taking so long, guys. My Computer Lit. class is under new management. The teacher makes it hard not to get caught. He can see your screen on his computer. (But my friends foun out how to freeze your screen on his computer, and be able to go anywhere you want on yours.) Ha! It's hilarious. My computer class is the future generation of online convicts. *Shakes head.***

**Well, enough about me, I'm not that interesting.**

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**High Queen Crystal**: I see you're more of the rock type. What about ACDC, Muse, Green Day? That's just me. :P Typical thing for Alex to do. *Rolls eyes.*

**Beagle Bug: **Uh, Alex just can't help it. :) Did you win you're homecoming game? We did.

**shadowlacrymossa: **I know, right! I totally see him as Norrington, both are so snobby it hilarious. Lmao. BTW, I checked out your story, Way of the Alcheimist, and I liked your humor. Lol, it's actually pretty funny, my favorite chapter was the first one. I think it would have been more relatable to me it I knew the what the Alcheimist was, (I know, I know, I live under a rock, but whatever), keep up the good work. ;)

**YarisVamp: **Ohemgee, I would have LOVED to see his face. ;)

**otose: **"I shall scream into the world, from the top of someplace very high." hehe, sorry, i'm such a kid, quoting the movie _Cars_. But I can not even _begin_ to describe how excited I am to read your story. I, SpanishSunrise, solemly *is that how you spell that? probably not, oh well* swear to review every single chapter of your story. When will you write it? I can't wait. You'll get so much reviews, trust me, Glory's becoming super popular. Tell me when you'll post it and what it will be called so I can advertise it on here. lol. I an't wait. Good luck. PS: The 'inspiration" thing ment a lot to me. :)

**snartyjonescrzy:** I was kind of bumbed out about them not including Will B. in the movie. He sounded like SUCH an awesome guy in the book. BTW, I don't know if I mentioned this, but I think your avitar is really cute. :) I used the song "The Fame" by Lady Gaga. I think country songs are really cool (For me it's Uncle Cracker, and maybe Carrie Underwood. :) but I chose this pop song because it was really...er...racy, unlike your typical country song, which actually has a meaning to it. (Atleast most of the time.) ;)

**BoosterSeat3:** Lol, I don't know, heck, he's from the future, maybe they have teleporters and pills that can make you temperarily invisible. ;) lol. Yeah, I'm in WAY over my head with highschool, that doesn't help your Robert picture. Howz it going, btw? School drives me crazy! Argh! Hehe. Sorry.

**K: **Hey! I guess it must have showed the date wrong, because the last time I updated was two weeks ago. (October 14, 2010.) Lol.

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**Robert's POV**

Robert's eyes wandered restlessly around his room, jumping from object to object, examining every dull surface, determined not to make eye contact with Miss Janeiro. He had stared at her long enough, so long that he was afraid she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He was worried about her, he admitted to himself silently, feeling like somebody's overprotective mother. Though it's been over an hour since she fell, her hair slightly damp, drying longer in the clammy winter air, he still felt the need to ask her, over and over, if she was feeling alright. It was like he didn't believe her. It was annoying, and not to mention extremely rude. He felt like a fool, as he asked once more.

"Miss Janeiro, no need to act brave, are you alright?" he asked, not knowing what to do with his hands, fidgeting and finally putting them to rest behind his back. He ducked his head slightly, waiting for her reaction.

There was no answer. Robert looked up, and saw that she was biting her lip to keep from smiling."Yeah, I'm fine, thanks." Then she laughed, a sparkling, musical sound, like diamonds clinking together, her cheeks reddening slightly.

Rob cleared his throat, not returning the smile, and nodded."That's...good." he murmured lamely, not knowing what else to say.

Another brief, yet still awkward, silence past, before she spoke again."Can I go now?" she jerked her head back towards the doorway, seemingly itching to get out there and into the fresh, fever-threatening, cold air."Besides, you probably have work for me to do anyway, so, yeah..."

Such strange manner of speaking.

Robert nodded again, at a loss of what else to do, and dismissed her."Of course, Miss Janeiro, perhaps Major Forbes might have something for you to do."

Miss Janeiro smiled once more, lingering in the doorway, before dissolving out into the barracks.

Robert watched her go, turning away once she was out of sight, and approaching his desk. He collapsed into it, not bothering to take his kepi off, or unbutton his collar for that matter. He was trying to occupy himself, and having a hard time with it too. No matter where he began, his thoughts kept tracing back to Miss Janeiro. Robert never had any trouble writing back home, but now he had to cut his letter to his mother off short, afraid that he would write something about Miss Janeiro in it. He knew how his mother would get. He did not even want to remind himself of how his mother felt about Miss Annie Haggerty. _Still_ feels.

He finally just gave in. His favorite thing to think about was her eyes. So intense a shade of blue that they were almost violet. The way her hair falls every which way. It was nothing like he'd seen back home, where most of the ladies had their hair up so tightly and securely, it must have felt uncomfortable. Robert pitied them immensely. And the way she fit so perfectly into his arms, like they were designed...no. Highly inappropriate. _Extremely._ Robert cleared his confused and foggy mind, trying to make himself useful. No sense in sitting around, daydreaming. Wasn't "no loitering" one of his own rules? What kind of colonel could he possibly be if he couldn't even follow his _own_ rules?

How shamefully pathetic.

Robert reached across his desk, still dead-set determined to do something productive, and grabbed the pile of envelopes stacked crookedly on a corner of his desk. They had been delivered earlier this morning, and Forbes must have put them there while Robert was busy hauling Miss Janeiro out of a deep barrel. Robert grunted. Were those really necessary?

He calmly picked the first letter, a telegram marked 'URGENT', slicing the yellowed envelope open with a small, dagger-like paperknife that he kept in one of his drawers.

The letter was addressed to Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, Commander of the Fifty-Fourth Infantry of Massachusetts, in uneven, press-printed, black letters. Robert leaned forward, his intelligent brown eyes glaring holes in the paper as his mind registered what this was all about. He gritted his teeth, surprising himself with the pressure of his anger, as he forcefully scanned through the rest of the letter. It always annoyed him, though he often did it himself, how people could use up an entire paper of courteous words, dancing around the edges before finally getting to the point. Which usually took up less than a few sentences. A paragraph, at the very most.

He shoved the paper away from him, slamming it into the inkwell, catching it before it fell over and spilled India Blue all over his desk. Almost impossible to wash off. Robert's head felt heavy as he held it in his hand, like a giant stone with a brain, clenching and unclenching his teeth, trying to keep his mind off the string of curses and profanities that threatened to overtake his mind. He blocked them out, struggling to keep his composure, never straying from acting like a gentleman. Even when he was alone.

It was half an hour later, when Charlie found him like this.

* * *

**Charlie POV**

"Robert, Sir?" he approached carefully, trying not to startle the man.

His efforts were in vain.

Robert jerked slightly anyway at the sound of his footsteps. He looked up, disoriented, the sides of his forehead pink from where his palms had been pressing it in place. He blinked a few times, as if pulling himself out of deep thoughts and coming back to the bright, present world around him. Charlie watched as Robert registered his surroundings, pulling himself together. Dazed, he never failed to salute.

"What time is it, Charlie?" he asked groggily, pulling the kepi off and raking a hand through his thick hair. He adjusted the cap back on his head, and blinked at the captain.

Charlie pulled out his grandfather's silver heirloom pocket watch."Half past noon, sir."

Robert nodded gravely, sending a menacing glare at some piece of tan paper strewn carelessly across his desk.

"Robert, what happened?" Charlie asked his friend, approaching the table and picking up the slip of paper.

"They've done it again." Robert growled, his voice sour with heavy acid.

Charlie cocked his head to the side."What is it?"

Robert shifted his smoldering gaze from the paper to Charlie."Here." he passed the formal letter.

Charlie took it from him, his thoughtful eyes scanning across the page quickly."What are we going to do?" he asked softly."The men won't stand for this."

Robert's head was in his hands again."I don't know." he murmured, snapping his head up. Robert exhaled deeply, loudly, exhausted."Apparently the Massachusetts Military Board doesn't agree with us. Manual Labor." he snorted bitterly, his voice dripping with heavy disgust."They're worth more than that."

Charlie nodded in agreement. He didn't know what to say to reassure his friend, but he had to try."The telegram stated that the possibilities of the troops being able to fight is little. That doesn't mean they won't, Robert."

Robert nodded gravely, rising from his chair."What have you come to tell me about, Captain?"

"Ah." Charlie exclaimed, suddenly remembering."The rifles arrived this morning." he grinned. Why would a regiment need rifles if they weren't going to fight?

Robert realized that too; picking up his log book."See to it then; that all are distributed properly."_ Under trained_. Rob snorted. Once he was through teaching them, they'll be professional snipers. All of them. No one would ever dare call them under trained."Get Major Forbes on it immediately."

The corner of Charlie's mouth quirked up in a small smile."Company A is already armed and training."

Robert stopped short in the doorway, turning slightly to look back at Charles.

"Good."

* * *

**Alex POV**

I pulled the dark blue coat tightly around my torso, trying to limit access for the biting, frosty air. I didn't even tuck in my collar, letting it stand and build a short wall around my neck, like a scarf. As I rounded the corner, I heard roaring laughter, and the loud, excited voices of chorusing soldiers. In the distance, I could see a large group of men, both officers and soldiers, crowded eagerly around a large wooden crate. When I got closer, Rawlins and Trip were just popping the cap off with two metal crowbars. Though with the much effort it took, 'popping' would not be the word I would use next time.

They dropped the lid on the icy ground, kicking it out of the way, and removed the cheap, light blue cotton that was covering the object on the surface. Rawlins pulled it away, bundleing it up and pushing it at Trip, who looked annoyed to have to be the one to dispose of it, and glanced down at the objects in the crate. The men's faces glowed with delight. I moved closer to see what it was; having to stand on my tippy toes and jump around like a bloody idiot to see over the mens' broad backs.

Bundles of shiny rifles gleamed back at me.

Even the officers stared.

I smiled. Though anybody could tell that I didn't really want one, they still looked pretty cool.

I saw Charlie jog up to Rawlins with a notebook, tapping him on the shoulder."Distribute arms." he ordered with a salute. Rawlins saluted back, pulling out the first one, just as Charlie took his position a few feet away from him, flipping through the book.

Rawlins examined the first one with glee.".57 Caliber, Enfield Rifle-Musket."

As if I knew what that ment. I stare at him as if he just spoke in Pig-Latin.

"Sharts!" Charlie shouts off of his list. Jupiter rubs his hands together in anticipation as he approaches Rawlins.

"Can you handle that boy?" Rawlins grins, as the weapon exchanges hands.

Jupiter holds it as if it's made of diamonds."I can knock somethin' down with this." he laughs. He walks away, closing one eye and pretending to aim at things.

The next person in line, Trip, shivering in his holey hunter green coat and wrinkled top hat, shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Trip!" Rawlins shouts, handing him the gun.

Trip looked like he was trying hard to restrain himself from yanking the rifle out from the old man's hands."My, my." he whispered, then whistled loudly as he turned to go.

I folded my arms, leaning on one of the fragile-looking wooden posts that held up the roof over the wooden walkway outside the building, watching each of the men's reaction. It was all the same, mostly. The excited gleam of glee in their eyes, the ridiculous way they held their rifles, as if they were made of glass, the loud whistles of impressed approval. I wouldn't be surprised if the next crate of muskets started getting catcalls.

I'll never be able to understand men. Frankly, I just don't get what all the drama is about. It's just a bunch of stupid guns. I watched some of the men pretend to shoot each other, then fall to the ground in a large, theatrical death. It was like playtime with toy guns. Cowboys and Indians, Cops and Robbers, whatever. I guess you have to possess the Y chromosome to be able to understand and appreciate what all the fuss is about. I sighed.

"You dare spend your time loitering again, Miss Janeiro?" A dripping, mocking voice asked behind me. I jumped, twisting around.

Forbes grinned back at me.

I smacked his arm. He pretended to wince."Must you do that?" I asked. I almost believed it was Robert, or worse, Andrews.

He chuckled."You're reaction fascinate me."

He winked.

"What is all this?" I asked, gesturing at Charlie and Rawlins, who were still passing out rifles.

Forbes whistled in admiration."Ah, the .57 Caliber Enfield Rifle Musket." I swear his eyes got far away and dreamy looking.

I groaned and rolled my eyes.

He sobered."What?" he asked innocently.

"Nothing." I muttered."Never mind."

He switched his cigar to the opposite corner of his mouth, then decided against it, spitting it out and stamping it out with his shiny shoe. Then he pulled a silver pocket watch out of his blue wool coat. He stared at it for a moment, then grimaced and put it back."Time to drill." he murmured.

"What?" I asked, frowning in confusion."I thought officers didn't have to drill."

Forbes rolled his dark blue eyes."Not for _me_." he muttered. I could hear the unspoken word. Stupid.

Charlie was done now, approaching us."Hello." he smiled.

"Charlie, please gather the men." Forbes cocked his head towards the still "fighting-and-dieing" soldiers with rifles.

"Yes, of course." Charlie said. He smiled at me again, then walked away.

"You're so bossy." I teased.

Forbes smirked. Then lept off the wooden walkway and strolled towards an open field. He stopped after a few steps, and turned."Alex! Are you coming?"

I jumped off too, miraculously _not_ falling and twisting an ankle. I jogged to his side."Where?"

"Teach them how to aim and fire." he said it in a tone like he was stating the obvious. He turned towards the field again, walking in long strides that made me have to struggle to keep up.

* * *

**Robert POV**

Robert walked across the wooden walkway slowly, his head buried in a leather logbook. It was a checkbook for all the supplies that they had and/or needed. Rifles, check. Food, check. Uniforms, blank. Shoes, blank. Robert sighed. Sometimes he felt just plain horrible. The letter he got today didn't help much either. It burned in the front pocket of his thick, blue coat, feeling like it was scorching through his skin.

"Robert!" he recognized Thomas's thick, intelligent voice, and he snapped his head up.

"Finally." The man was wrapped tight in a scratchy-looking blanket, and his breath was fogging up his round spectacles.

Robert stared at him.

"There's a rumor going around." Thomas swallowed."That we're to be used only for manual labor."

Robert was astonished at how gossip spreads like wildfire, even among men. He always that it was a female hobby.

Thomas continued."I can't believe the things we hear."

Robert couldn't meet his eyes. He looked back down at his logbook. He could feel the burning from the telegram now more than ever.

"That's not true, is it?" Thomas licked his already chapped lips."About not being allowed to fight?"

The guilt was overwhelming.

"The men are living for that day." Thoma smiled.

Robert's mouth felt full of sawdust.

"I know _I_ am." he boasted, his smile widening into a grin.

"Cluck. Cluck. Cluck. Cluck." Another man in a top hat made chicken noises, making fun of Thomas. Robert shifter his brown-eyed glare to him. Jamming his tongue in his cheek. He watched the man walk away.

"Trip." Thomas muttered. Calmly turning back to face Robert."Don't mind him. He's just ignorant."

But Robert's mind was already someplace else. Men were pretending to shoot at each other. Screaming war cries and having a faux battle. Robert watched the imitation, unamused; furrowing his brow.

Finally he had enough. He held up a hand to his childhood friend."Excuse me."

Robert got closer. The way the men fell down, pretending to be dead, made his stomach twist into knots. It was all very familiar. September 17, 1862. That horrible battle in Maryland. Blood everywhere. Guns and canons. Smoke so thick you could barely see a few feet in ahead of you. Hoping you will survive. Wishing you were anywhere, on any continent of the globe, except here. That was Antietam. _"For God's sakes come on!"_

Then it exploded.

* * *

**Eh. I'm passing out. Look what you have done to me! School! *Shakes fist in air.* Er...Excuse me. ;)**

**Review please.**

**Hopefully this is in character. :)**

**XOXO**

**Ta!**


	21. Shots!

**Hey Guys! Ugh, my back is sore and my keyboard sucks. :) Homework is my worst nightmare. I actually have dreams bout doing complicated math equations in my sleep. Haha, scary I know.**

**One Request:**

**One of the reviewers, otose, has posted a new Glory story with her friend RavenLyon, it's called "Re-writing History" Take a look at it when you get the chance. Tell 'em what you think. It's pretty good.**

**and of course, if I don't get a chance to say so later...**

**HAPPY THANKSGIVING! **

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**Samantha:** I can understand using a dress in the 1800's, but it would be extremely difficult to do the things she is doing in a difficult-to-move dress. Hoops and corsets, and rifles and regiments don't mix. )

**Kristen:**Thanks for reviewing. I'm so glad you like this story. But the "older men start wars thing" belongs to Herbert Hoover I believe, but the canvas thing is mine. ;) I'm flattered. I throw in my own twists and turns, but I was following the movie because it has a fabulous plot, I think it goes well. ;) Hehe, it wasn't a bucket. A barral is actually pretty big and kind deep. Thanks again! :) I belive BoosterSeat3 might hve a soundtrack. Heard somebody (was it her?) talking about it. You could always rip it off of youtube. Hope I helped. :)

**otose:**I know I haven't mentioned this in my review to you guys, but thanks so much for dedicating it to me, I'm flattered, really, nothing's been dedicated to me before. :) When will you update again? :)

**Beagle Bug:**Haha, yes we are SUCH computer hackers. :) I really, really don't want to kill him in the end, I always cry. :(

**Anntrell:**Haha, I can sympathize, my keyboard is wireless, and it's not very nice to me.

**shadowlacrymossa:**You graduated? Cool! Oh yeah, rub it in. Haha.

**High Queen Crystal:**Grr, yo're making me hungry lol. XD. Awaitingyour thoughts on this next chapter...

**YarisVamp: **Actually, I think Native Americans inventd dodgeball as training for war. Haha, not sure tho. ;)

**smartyjonescrzy:**Once again, LOVED, the videos you uploaded. I was actually planning on using the song later in the story. Haha. Ur a mind reader. :) On the edge of my seat, waiting to hear your thoughts about this chappie...:)

**BoosterSeat3:**It is most definitely a rumor, I can assure you of that. Haha. Good luck to you, and all us highschoolers out there. ;)

* * *

**Alex POV**

I let out a soft yelp and ducked behind Forbes as the glass bottle exploded, even though it was more than fifteen yards away. It was unexpected. Forbes looked away from his small, shiny telescope, and over his shoulder at me. He laughs."Don't be so afraid, Alex, it's only a bit of glass."

I stick my tongue out at him. He throws his head back and laughs again.

Jupiter looks proud of himself. The guy has perfect aim. Rawlins trades him muskets and Jupiter fires again. The bottle shatters, spraying crystal raindrops on the icy mud. The shards of glass glitter rainbow like diamonds, on the frozen earth."Good shot." Charlie says from behind me, his voice heavy with admiration.

Rawlins grins, he too, impressed."Do that again, boy! Do that again!"

Jupiter smiles triumphantly, yet ducks his head modestly. The men shout excitedly all around him, I see that even Trip looks impressed.

Rawlins hits Thomas' arm briskly, to get his attention."Give him your weapon, c'mon."

Thomas quickly complies, he seems excited to see if it wasn't just 'Beginner's Luck.' Though it was clear he wasn't a beginner. More like a sniper. Jupiter picks up the gun, taking his time with slow, steady aim. The loud, slightly nasal voice of one of Trip's goons, Jones, splits his concentration."One dime he can't do it!"

Rawlins jumps at the sound of money. It seems to wake him up better then coffee."Dime?" he repeats, his eyes glaze over.

"Yeah! Dime!" at least three more men take Jones's side.

"Ha!" Rawlins laughs, pointing down at the men, lined up in a crooked row."That's a dime on each of you!"

Jupiter just can't stop grinning.

Forbes smiles with a corner of his mouth, position his telescope back over his eye. Even Charlie looks excited. "I feel guilty," I hear Rawlins say to the soldiers betting against him,"for taking your money like this."

"That's a bet." Jones says, leaning forward to get a better, prescise look at the poor bottle.

"Go on boy, c'mon. Go ahead Sharts." Rawlins roots in a whisper. Talk about 'no pressure.' His words echo throughout the group of men, even Charlie mutters words of encouragement.

The men hold their breaths. Jupiter closes on eye, takes a deep breath, and hold the gun steady. His finger is taut on the trigger, he waits a beat, then pulls. The bullet, though invisible to us, soars through the air, flying over the yards and coliding with the clear glass bottle. It snaps and shatters to pieces, glittering to the ground. The weapon jerks back in Jupiter's hands, and as the sooty smoke clears from the barrel, the men explode.

Rawlins actually jumps up."HAAAAAA!" he shouts, slapping Jupiter on the back, who raises his rifle in the air like an Indian warrior."That's a dime! That's a dime on each of you!"

The losers slump their shoulders, looking everywhere except at Rawlins and Jupiter."I ain't got my wallet on me." One of them says.

Forbes smirks.

"Don't ya worry, I won't forgets." Rawlins laughs happily, pretending to rub his hands together like a tax collector.

Forbes and Charlie are smiling at the carefree laughter of the men, something rare in an army camp, watching Jupiter shake his weapon in the air like a trophy.

Charlie whistles.

Jones grits his teeth."Double or nothin'!" Rawlins doesn't hear him, he's on cloud nine. Jupiter flashes a self-congratulatory smile.

Grinning, I look back at Forbes, but his smile has vanished. He's suddenly dead serious, his eyes set in the mist at the end of the field by the camp's buildings. He's shuffling rapidly, shoving the telescope into a pocket inside his coat. He straightens up his hat."Attention, company!"

Despite his shout, the men don't seem to hear him, they keep laughing and arguing, loud and disorganized. It takes me a moment, but then I see him too. Robert was approaching us, his hands clasped behind his back, and his expression none too happy. Forbes shouts to 'attention' once again, this time his voice much more harsh and urgent.

This time the men do notice him, for they scramble desperately into position. But it's too late. Robert already saw our so-called "training." Robert walks past the stunned men, the air of leadership that surrounds him filters through the group of men, looking more like a crowd than a military formation. They try to stand up straighter, and in order.

Robert notices this. He nods at both officers and soldiers, going to stand in front and center. He salutes all at once.

"As you were."

* * *

**Robert POV**

Robert stood in front, so that all can see him. His eyes are narrowed, the corners of his mouth twist into a frown. He's disappointed in everything and everyone. It made him angry, like a disapproving parent, how these grown men could just waste time acting like children. Firing weapons at empty wine bottles, once-owned by Forbes no doubt, shattering them into sharp fragments that could one day cut somebody. Did they not realize that a rifle was not a toy? They were not ten year old boys wrapped up in a game of Cowboys and Indians.

Robert gritted his teeth.

And what was Forbes doing? His best friend, the man he ordered to train them? Encouraging it! Thank God for Sergeant Mulcahy, or where would this regiment be. Robert was aware that the chances of the troops actually being aloud to fight were extremely low, but he had to prepare them. He said that he would get these men ready, and he _will_. There is no sense in not being prepared. Men were dying by the thousands, and one day they might be needed. He remembered what his father once told him.

"Failing to prepare, was preparing to fail."

He never believed this more in his life than he did now.

He singled out the Bottle-Shooter. The boy seemed to realize Robert was looking at him, and he tensed ever-so-slightly. Robert's right hand snapped up in a commanding salute. The young man saluted back timidly. When Robert addressed him, he spoke loudly an clearly."Front and center!"

_Let's see what you can do. _

* * *

**Jupiter POV**

Jupiter, along with all of the other men, stood tall, straight and silent, trying to resemble a mountain, as Colonel Shaw, narrowing his eyes, inspected the troops, a corner of his mouth twisting in disapproval. When the Colonel's attention zeroed in on Sharts, he stiffened a little, trying not to wince. He examined him for a second, and Jupiter felt a bit awkward under his smoldering vision.

Colonel Shaw called him to the front. Jupiter hesitated yet once again. The colonel gritted his teeth and put a hand on his back, gently guiding him to the front, propelling him forward."Youre a good shot, Private."

That loosened Sharts up. He beamed at him."Thankee sir, s-squirrel hunting." Leaning towards the man with his gun, absentmindedly.

The white man gives a short, quick nod, like he's only half-listening. His gloved hand reaches up and his fingers circle around the barrel of Jupiter's gun, nonchalantly leaning it away from his face."Have you ever _killed_ a man?" he asks, his tone testy, dangerous like thin ice.

Sharts' face turns black, he can't understand what the man could possibly want from him."N-no sir." he sputters, like he always does.

Colonel Shaw's tone is still prying, unbelieving."But you're handy with a gun?"

Something he is sure of, Jupiter speaks,"Yes, sir" Sharts grins again, the colonel does not.

Colonel Shaw only nods, looking upset, as if Jupiter wasn't meeting his standards."Reload." he orders.

Jupiter struggles to deliver.

* * *

**Robert POV**

Robert twists and untwists his frowns, biting and releasing his ower lip, a habit he did often. It makes his stomach wrench at the sight of the private, loading so slow. Finally he can't bare to look at him without screaming orders, so he looks away. He was gentlemen and there was still a lady present. Instead, he examines the rest of the men, if he has to go through each and every one of them, teaching them how to shoot from scratch, so be it he'll do it. He kept having to remind himself, that thanks to his 'responsible' friend, Major Forbes, they were not at fault. Someone has to teach them properly.

If you want something done, make your friends do it; if you want something done _right_, then you must do it yourself.

His eyes ripple through the crowd, Forbes couldn't even line them up properly, his eyes flashing from face to unshaven face, lingering on Miss Janeiro's, shooting a glare at Forbes, skipping Charlie entirely. What was taking the man so long to shoot? Surely he had reloaded by now. Robert dared turn back to the private.

He wasn't done. He was taking his sweet time.

He had barely dug the packet of gun powder out of his pocket."Faster." Robert says flatly, calmly.

Jupiter works the rifle barrel with a metal pusher, shoving down gun powder out a packet, padding it down to the deep end.

Robert shakes his head. Too slow."Faster." There is a sharp edge to his voice this time.

It's obvious that the private is really trying, Robert almost pities him, but it's not good enough. Robert doesn't even attempt to control his flaring temper and deep frustration. He explodes, like the private's weapon should have done several times the past two minutes."FASTER!" Robert screams into the man's ear.

The boy shoots up like an arrow, and staggers back in fear and surprise. His eyes are as round and wide as his flat face, and his eyes are shiny like silver dollars. The poor Private's hands are shaking as he attempts to meet Robert's demands. He lifts the vertical weapon up, Robert's eyes flicket up after it, twisting it horizontal, holding it up under his arm."Discharge your weapon." Robert orders calmly. It's as if he can't get enough.

The private struggles, his hands quivering, trying to fit the tiny metal ball into the bullet hole. Robert's voice sounds impatient and annoyed. But he is more annoyed with himself and Forbes, for their lack of training techniques than he is with the soldier."Discharge your weapon." he repeats, punching out the words.

"Do it!" he yells, feeling like he was turning into a monster before the regiment's eyes.

The private turns away from Robert and spits the empty gun powder packet out the other direction, picks up the rifle and takes shaky, uneven aim.

Finally he pulls the trigger, firing quickly.

* * *

**Forbes POV**

Forbes watches closely, along with the other men, stunned into silence. His breathing comes out hard and ragged, similar to Alex's breaths, the first time the bottle exploded. He feels like a fool in front of Robert. Who was he to do that? Why was he treating the men like this? Like the foreman on some God forsaken cotton plantation in the south. He grits his teeth. He feels anger and irritation flaring inside of him as he watches Robert as he still glares holes into the private's, Jupiter was it?, head.

"Now do it again." he barks."Only_ this _time, I wannit done quickly!"

Who does he think he is?

Private Sharts obeys, starting all over again, beginning once again with the bloody packet.

Robert turns to the men, his loud voice echoing all across the field."A good man, can fire Three. Aimed. Shots. in a minutes." he punctuates each word, highlighting it in bold.

Forbes wants to challenge him. Lets see you do that, he wants to say, but he bites his tongue, hard. It was a helluva lot easier to fire three aimed shots, maybe even more, when you had a six-shooter at your side.

Robert turns away from the group of now semi-organized privates, and begins to walk forward.

Good God he's coming here.

"Major Forbes, give me your Colt Revolver." Robert doesn't ask, he orders.

Forbes isn't eager to give up the revolver."What?" he asks, confused.

It looked like Robert was struggling not to roll his eyes."Your gun." he speaks slowly, as if Forbes was only a child."Give it to me."

Forbes slowly retrieves it from it's leather holster, reluctant to give it up. Robert takes the gun, and his eyes flicker back at Jupiter. Forbes pales as he realizes what Robert is about to do. He has seen it done before in the 2nd Massachusetts, and it didn't have a very lovely after affect.

Dear God, no.

But Robert didn't so much as glance back in Forbes' direction, he made his way back to the shaky private, ready to harass him again.

* * *

**Jupiter POV**

Jupiter felt the gun before he saw it. He bitter energy, a cold 'heat' radiating off of it's dark metal surface. It brushed passed the back of his head and he stiffened once again. Jupiter tensed as Colonel Shaw cocked the weapon, like he was expecting a bullet to carve a hole in the back of his head. He never reloaded faster in his entire life. Though by his opinion, he was quick the first time too, he didn't understand why Colonel Shaw didn't agree with it.

Colonel Shaw raised the Colt Revolver up to the sky."Faster." he said again, his voice taut.

Jupiter fires, his own rifle crummy in comparison to the beautiful Colt in the colonel's tan gloves. Intricate designs were woven in the metal. Jupiter had almost fainted when he heard from Rawlins how much those cost. The whole twelve dollar. Almost what he would earn per month in the army. Colonel Shaw's voice brought him out of his daydream."Reload!"

Jupiter struggles to stay on the white man's good side, and complies as quickly as he can. He can feel the colonel's finger slilde into the trigger loop. He stifles his breathing, he can't keep himself from looking back. His eyes meet the lethal weapon face to face. When he saw Robert's frown, he snappd his head forward again, back to the dusty Enfield Rifle-Musket in his bare hands.

"Quickly!" Once again, the colonel shouts, then seems to remember to add his favorite word."Faster!"

He fires the revolver. Sparks fly out of the weapon, and the ringing that's left of it hurts Shart's ears.

"Faster!" the colonel shouted.

Jupiter struggled, biting his lip.

"Faster!"

It was becoming a blur, as he pounded the gun powder deep into the barrel.

"Do it! Do it!"

Jupiter remembers this. He remembers it clearly. It was all coming back to him, the reason for his stuttering.

Back on he cotton plantation where he was enslaved in South Carolina, it had been a slow day. The slaves were exhausted, they had been worked extra hard the day before, in preparation for Thanksgiving, and they could barely stand. Jupiter must have been seven or eight, he couldn't remember exactly, only that he was so exhausted he thought he was going to pass out.

The cotton grew tall, almost taller than him. He was only child. He didn't think anyone would notice. He simply curled up in the limited shade, and was asleep in moments.

Jupiter must have paused in thought, since Colonel Shaw hit him softly with his weapon to get his attention."Go! Faster!" Jupiter spilled the second packet of gun powder on the ground.

He was ripped from his sleep by the plantation foreman, yanking him up from the ground so harshly, his fingers left ugly greyish bruises on Jupiter's earth-brown skin. He screamed loudly in his ear, throwing him on the ground, where others could see."I'll sell you South, I swear I will, you dirty bastard!" he had yelled.

He made Jupiter cry, hot, salty tears ran down his red-dusty cheeks, like miniature waterfalls. He made him pick the cotton in the thorniest part of the field. Jupiter's soft, child's hands ripped and bled. He cried as the foreman fired a weapon just inches over his head, screaming,"Faster! Faster!" Just lik Colonel Shaw.

It was an ungly memory, one that he wished to forget.

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" Robert shouted once again, the revolver went off three more times. Jupiter could not take it anymore. He dropped the metal pusher, and the rifle-musket, letting them both clatter down on the froze ground.

* * *

**Alex POV**

I watch in shock as Robert stops. It's obvious that he knows that that was more than enough. The silence after the loud firing of both weapons is overwhelming, the memory of the noise still ringing in our ears, the sudden dead-quietness soothing them. I can understand Jupiter. I would be terrified, heck, I _am_ terrified, I have to be the guy's aid. Robert walks away from him, Jupiter shaking and quivering in his wake. Robert is just...

Scary.

The soldiers clear a path for him, as if the simple brush of his navy-blue jacket might destroy them.

Robert walks passed Thomas, seeming to deliberately avoid his question eyes.

When he walks passed _me_,_ I_ can't look at_ him_.

He overwhelms me.

Nobody moves, nobody breathes, including me. Though I'm not breathing for a slightly different reason, other than fear.

* * *

**Forbes POV**

Forbes is gritting his teeth so tightly he's afraid that he might shatter them in his own anger.

He watches Robert approach him, and can't keep the deadly glare out of his eyes. He knows that Robert noticed it, his breaths coming out in small, ragged clouds. Robert stops in front of him, calmly handing him back his revolver.

"Teach these men _properly_, Major."

Forbes is angry, and Robert's untouched gaze is twisting the knife even more.

He puts as much venom in his voice as he could find."Yes, sir." He's pleased that it comes out vicious. Robert, of course, pretends he doesn't notice.

Forbes yanks the now gun-powder dusted Colt sharply out of Robert's hands.

His friend gives him a long, sad stare, before turning away, his shoulders squared and his mouth in a tight line, walking away quickly, as if he, himself couldn't believe that he had just done that.

Alex gives him a hard, accusing stare. Forbes knows what she means. He must have hurt Robert's feelings, but right now, frankly, he doesn't give a damn. He is too blurred by his own anger to think clearly.

"Ready!" his voice doesn't sound as majestic as Robert's was when he gave orders. It comes out quavery."Aim! Fire!"

Forty rifles explode at once.

**That's all my dears, you were expecting something with "oomph", I tried to deliver. :) Hope it was okay. Review please.**

**luv,**

**Me**


	22. Integrity

**Happy Thanksgiving, guys! C'mon, dead turkey day! Woo!**

**ZakiChiUmi: **Your wish is my command. ;) I was actually thinking about having Rob go to the future at the end, haha, I guess great minds DO think alike. But I didn't want to kill him off, it's too sad. :( Gargh! I don't know what t do...*sighs dramatically.*

**High Queen Crystal: **I'm very flattered. Thank you, you made mah day.

**IceDragonHikari: **Haha, I remember back when your name used to be sakurablossom. ;) Teasing ya. When I hear the word 'holidays' it gets me so excited, yaknow what I mean. ;) Good luck with the food, and remember, 'sharing is caring' lol.

**BoosterSeat3: **I hear the word 'personal' and I just shutter. ;) Thanks!

**Beagle Bug: **Sorry about your storm. Hope the only thing that was affected was the branches and power. Thanks though. :)

**YarsisVamp: **Haha, thanks, that line is priceless!

**otose: **And you updated! Wooooo!

**Samantha Story: **Haha, of course I will. :)

**smartyjonescrzy: **First off, all jokes aside, I'm so sorry for your loss, you have all my sympathies, truly, I am. What do you mean by 'interjection chapter title?' I know I sound dense, but I'm sleep deprived. ;) Your review got me thinking, what is your favorite part? I've literaly sat there staring at the ceiling as if the answer was written there, trying to figure it out. My only guess is the part where Rob is forced to burn the town down? Or maybe the wipping scene? I'm curious. Like I said before, I am dense, and sleep deprived. Don't you worry, I won't go Uncle Tom's Cabin on you. :) I remember watching in GWTW, how Mr. O'Hara scolded Scarlett for treating Prissy (or was it Mammy?) harshly. He said they needed to be treated with a 'stern kindness' I think it was. Don't know if you remember that scene, my fellow Windie, close to the part where he dies. Don't you worry, cowgirl, coming is the day when I ask you for your horse expertise. ;)

* * *

**Alex POV**

I looked at Forbes, shouting orders at the men to reload their weapons faster. His teeth were grinding together, his hands still at his side, quivering with anger. I touched his arm."Forbes, are you okay?" that was a dumb thing to ask, when it was obvious he wasn't. I don't think he even heard me, his eyes were narrowed and trained at the targets on the front end of the field. I was too scared to ask him again, in case he might explode.

Forbes snapped suddenly."Don't look at me like that." he muttered."It's not my fault."

I shrugged."It's none of my business Forbes, but ..."

"That's right." he spat. "It's isn't."

It was difficult to hear him with all those gunshots. But I heard that. His remark stung. Forbes noticed, and immediately gave me an apologetic smile."I'm sorry." he said."I didn't mean it."

"...he's your friend." I continued.

Forbes nodded grimly, shouting more orders at the troops. I walked away from him slowly, exchanging sad smiles with Charlie. I felt sad for Forbes, for both of them.

It stung to see Robert that way. As if the entire world was against him. He walked away with his shoulders square, head bent low, as if he had just faced an army alone, which, ironically, he had.

I glanced back over my shoulder. He was just a small dark blue speck now, walking across the field, but if I ran, I could catch up.

I always loved running. Back in the future, when I still had P.E. at high school, I loved running the mile. Everybody else pouted and complained, but to me, it was awesome. My arms pumping the air and the crunch of muddy gravel beneath my shoes, it was exhilarating. Especially when there was wind, and it rushed through your hair with impeccable speed, it almost felt like flying.

I was coming closer to him, the noise of my footsteps causing him to turn.

I jogged to a stop, careful not to run into him. Something I didn't need right now.

I leaned on my knees, out of breath, but ended up falling to the ground, gasping deeply."Hi."

* * *

**Robert POV**

Robert ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, brushing the top part out of his eyes. It was dusted with a thin sheet of gunpowder, but he hardly noticed it and didn't care. He pulled his colonel's kepi back over his head, dragging the brim lower down his forehead to shadow his eyes. He breathed deeply, evenly, his breath coming out in puffy white clouds.

It was a strange emotion, what he was feeling. He didn't even know how to describe it.

There was a little bit of everything, like ingredients in a stew. There was gripping anger, for one. There was a heavy sadness, unwelcome defeat. But what he despised most, was how weak he felt, not knowing what to do.

He kept wanting to blame Forbes for everything, how hard was it to teach them properly? Robert wanted to yell in his face saying it was all his fault.

But that wasn't entirely true.

Robert was the colonel, _he_ was the leader. And when you were a leader, everything...

...is _your_ fault.

He blinked slowly, his eyes wandering aimlessly in every direction. He still didn't know what to do.

The loud, labored crunch of gravel startled him out of his thoughts, and he spun around.

He saw Miss Janeiro jog towards him, her face flushed, eyes a soft glow.

When she reached him, she leaned on her knees, breathing deeply.

He watched her, hoping she was alright.

She gave him a clumsy salute, before stumbling on the ground. She gasped."Hi."

Robert pulled himself together."My God, Miss Janeiro are you alright?" he kneeled down next to her on one knee, his eyes searching her face for a sign that she was fine.

She nodded, flashing him a sweet, crooked smile.

Robert didn't want to return it, but he couldn't stop himself."I understand that when you wore corsets, they made it hard to breath for you, I suppose it effects your running as well, you must not do it very often." he was pulling at strings.

She let out a maniacal laugh.

It made him uncomfortable, he wasn't particularly fond of being laughed at.

But then she smiled again, and his feelings disappeared entirely.

* * *

**Alex POV**

I laughed, coming out high-pitched and creepy. His idea of me wearing corsets, I found it comical. The only time I worn one was for a few hours at his party, about a month or two ago. He arched an eyebrow at my response, then dipped them both into a serious scowl. I stopped laughing immediately, and gave him a small, tail-tucked smile. I was glad to see his face smooth out again. My lungs weren't the best pair in the world, that's all.

Nobody wears corsets from where I come from. I didn't realize before it was too late that I said that out load.

"What?" he asked, squinting.

Me and my big mouth.

Instead of shutting up,"It's true." I murmured, brushing my annoying hair out of my eyes.

He frowned again, it was obvious he didn't believe me,"Don't be ridiculous." he replied, standing up and brushing himself off.

He extended a hand for me, which I gripped tightly, pulling so hard that he staggered forward a little. When I was standing, I didn't let go of his hand right away.

We stood silently, in the empty part of the field, only mildly aware of the muted gunfires in the distance.

He was alone with me in my small world. The crisp, November breeze ruffled his hair and raced through mine. The sky was white from the overcast, the dark ground in deep contrast with it.

It was cold, but I didn't notice it, the warmth of his hand, though gloved was enough. It felt as if his energy flowed into me, there was a flame between our hands; I felt comlete; and despite Marty's warning, I felt as if I was falling in...

Robert let go first.

Dreams came crashing down. Hard.

I blushed, while he rubber the back of his neck and looked away, chewing awkwardly on his lower lip.

* * *

**Robert POV**

To be quiet honest, Robert found it a bit difficult to retract his own hand from Miss Janeiro's. He did it anyway. He felt a sting, a sort of burn when she touched him, and he hoped against hope that he wasn't blushing. He looked away from her, in case he was. He bit his bottom lip, a habit he did often when he was at a loss in a difficult, confusing situation.

He wasn't in love with her. The burning sensation was nothing, just pressure and heat from her hand on his. It wasn't that he did not find her attractive, she was lovely, in her own way, but...but what?

She was his assistant, his aid, his secretary, just another person to bark orders at, something Robert had still yet to master.

He felt like a fool. A fool with no finesse.

"Sir?" her voice came out feeble."Do you have anything for me to do?"

He forced his head to turn and eyes to look back at her. He gave her a half-hearted smile. "Yes." As a matter of fact, no, no he did not. Robert took pride in his ability to pull himself together quickly, to act like nothing happened."Please follow me."

He led her towards a food shed full of ice-cold watermelons that would never ripen. Just because he had no idea what to make her do, it did not mean he could leave her bounding aimlessly about the camp site. He racked his brain for ideas, and found one when his eyes spotted a group of posts, each about five feet tall. Ridiculous as it was, it was all he had at the moment.

He led her into the doorless shed, there were hammers here, nails there, and most peculiar, the preserved watermelons. Robert had discovered it a few weeks ago, while exploring the site, he stumbled upon the items that the occupants before him had left. He never did figure out the meaning of the watermelons, unless for cavalry training.

Yes, it had to be, that explains the tall wooden posts outside. Robert had done something like that before, and was quiet good at it.

It was then when he realized that Miss Janeiro was standing there, arms folded, waiting for him to speak. He turned to her, opening and closing his mouth, not sure how to explain why he was about to make her do something so...ridiculous-looking. But he shrugged it off, he was the colonel, she was the aide, he didn't have to explain she should be able to follow orders."Miss Janeiro, I do not have anything of much importance for you to do today," he admitted, watching her get ready to leave,"_but_, there is something you _could_ do for me"

He pulled out his saber sharply, the metal on metal sound slicing the air, making Miss Janeiro's eyes widen. Robert winced at her reaction."My apologies."

She nodded.

* * *

**Alex POV**

His sword was beautiful. Silver and gold woven into the handle with intricate detail. When he pulled it out, it made such an impressive sound, like a threat, full of power and the ability to destroy anything in its path. The thought made me widen my eyes. He took it the wrong way, and apologized. I simply nodded, to stunned to speak.

I could tell he was very proud of it, twisting and turning it slightly, watching it catch the rays of the limited sun and glint off of the blade. A golden tassel hung off of the double handle, gold and silver braided into the side of it. He approached the pile of large, slightly green watermelons, and sliced on effortlessly. The sword was so sharp it hardly made a sound.

Robert stared at the unripened watermelon, sliced in two halves. A few drops of juice dripped off o the blade, and he dragged it across his palm gently, wiping the watery juice clean against his glove. They were tan today. He slipped the sword slowly back in it's leather holster. Robert picked up the dripping watermelon and handed it to me. I wrinkled my nose, but took it anyway.

He then walked over to a wall, where many tools, and a handful of nails, that I didn't recognize hung on the wall. He unclipped a hammer, which I felt proud to know what it was.

"This is a hammer." he spoke slowly, as one would to a small child. I pushed my stupid hair out of my face again.

"Thanks, I'll remember that." I said bitterly, trying not to let him in on the sarcasm.

He raised his eyebrows, motioning for me to follow him out. I gripped the stupid watermelon closer to my chest and followed him out. He was leading me to a group of tall posts, white paint peeling off of them, each about two yards apart from each other. There were at least ten of them, fifteen to be exact. I wondered what he was doing. When we reached the first post I waited patiently for him to continue, clutching the watermelon as a small child might clutch a pumpkin on a patch.

He took the watermelon from me then,'lightening the load', and gestured at the post with his hammer. There were several long nails sticking out of it, up ended, crooked and twisted every which way. With one slam each, he beat each nail back into a vertical position. Next, he shoved the watermelon on top of them forcefully, the poor thing making a cracking, screeching sound as it slid over the nails and on to the post. Finally, he stepped back, grinning.

I couldn't see what the point was to this exercise."Repeat the process with every post, see me when you're done." he said it so dismissively, it hurt.

"What am I supposed to slice 'em with?" I asked through gritted teeth, folding my arms.

His hand flew to the sword hanging at his side."There's a small axe in the shed. It's not that difficult."

He smiled politely and saluted me. I gave him a sarcastic on in return, not meeting his eyes."Miss Janeiro." he nodded.

"Colonel Shaw." I replied as he walked away."When he was out of earshot, I added."_Robert_."

* * *

**Robert POV**

Robert felt horrible. He felt like a wretched and horrid human being. How rude he was! So dismissive as if she was nothing. He wanted her to know that when he held her hand, it meant nothing, except something that should be dismissed. He was a gentlemen, and making a lady, even though she was his aide, work like that. He felt like a slave owner. (_Sorry smarty, just teasing, couldn't resist._ ;)

He almost turned around and went back a dozen times to insist that she stop immediately and to apologize exactly fifty-four times like a bloody fool. Robert pinched the bridge of his nose. He was behaving like a child. He knew that he could have easily found her another job, something much more easier and not as difficult and that requires a lot less effort.

But he didn't.

It was to establish boundaries.

They were too...close. If you could describe it that way. Men were beginning to talk. Not that Robert cared.

No, he was upset, tired, sad about his friend, and his conscience tugged at the back corners of his mind. He only wished his father was here, he really needed his advice, his council.

Robert shook his head.

* * *

**Alex POV**

I felt retarded. The axe as so dull it barely chopped. I grunted and swore, earning me insults and teasing from Trip and his just-as-intelligent comrades, Jones and that one other guy. I wasn't wearing any gloves, and I received many scrapes and blisters from the wood, axe, nails, hammers, and of course, my ultimate 'favorite', the cold. It wasn't very fun. It was UBER cold.

I thought about Robert, I thought about Forbes, I even thought about Trip and Jupiter as I chopped seven poor watermelon in half, harrasing them, cutting them open slowly and painfully, and believe me, they weren't bleeding love either. But it was the best I could do, as I ended their already ended lives on their own individual posts. I had done fourteen already, took me only two bloody hours. I sighed ad rolled my eyes, as I dumped the axe on the hay littered floor. Picking up the fifteenth half of a unripened watermelon, carrying it outside.

I was on my last one! Glory hallelujah my last one!

I slammed it onto the post, the rusty nails sliding into its juicy center.

"There." I muttered, brushing myself off. Finally, it was complete.

I saluted it the last watermelon post, almost at my eye level."Here you go, Robert." I imagined it was him."Hope that's straight enough for ya, do you want me to polish 'em too?" I asked the watermelon head bitterly, rubbing it with my sleeve. I swear, sometimes I'm just so immature it's not even funny.

Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I froze.

I wished I was dead.

* * *

**Robert POV**

He had occupied his time with two-and-a-half hours worth of letter writing. He wrote the longest to his father, asking him every question that filtered through his mind, every thought and emotion ended up on that slip of tan paper. When he looked at his pocket watch, he almost gasped in horror. He quickly rushed out of his office. He knew it was a little late to apologize, but he would anyway and make sure she stopped doing that. He'd never force her to do anything like that again, ever. He vowed.

He reached the open field in a matter of minutes. Forbes was already training his third company of the day. His eyes scanned the field across to the other end. To his surprise, she was already done. Miss Janeiro was leaning her body weight on her right foot, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed. She appeared to be talking to the post. In Robert's opinion, she did her job very well, for a woman.

"Here you go, Robert, hope that's straight enough for ya, do you want me to polish 'em too?" she was muttering, her voice heavy with sarcasm, an art Forbes had mastered long ago.

Two emotions fluttered through him, one was amusement. It was funny, besides, he deserved it; while the other was a new layer of sadness, nothing heavy, but still sad. He found it amusing that he actually felt the need to 'establish boundaries' yet again, when it was clear she could care less about him.

He cleared his throat.

She spun around abruptly, her eyes wide, and her hair falling into her face yet again. He pretended like he did not hear a thing."You did a wonderful job, Miss Janeiro."

"T-Thank you sir." she sputtered.

He smiled, until his eyes caught her hands. He frowned deeply."Let me see your hands."

She winced, but held them out. He took them gently into his own larger ones, her palms facing up. He found the irony amusing, how he vowed never to touch her again.

He was surprised it hurt him when he saw the damage to her hands. There were red marks, minor cuts and scrapes, and angry red blisters. The guilt multiplied a thousand times.

He looked at her."Miss Janeiro, I'm so sorry."

**Yeah, the usual randomness, courtesy of writers block, crappy keyboard, the wee hour, and addicting Monster Energy Drinks.**

**Review please.**


	23. State of Disunion

**smartyjonescrzy:** I really want to read 'Blue-Eyed Child of Fortune' but I can't find it anywhere. Is it good? I 'reckon' it's an informative book like 'Glory: One Gallant Rush" which is also about Shaw. About the hand the hand thing reminding you of GWTW, great minds DO think alike. ;) Haha. I'm glad you noticed the lip biting scene, I noticed that too, that he would always bite his lip when worried or in a bad situation, etc. I swear I smacked my head against the keyboard when you told me your favorite part. I had to be blind or something. It's so obvious! I was racking my brain for horse scenes in the movie, but I totaly missed that. XD

**BeagleBug:** Plans for Thanksgiving? You mean besides jetting off to Tahiti and shopping in Paris? Nope. Haha, kidding. My plans were 'stuffing myself with so much food that I gain three pounds and loose 'em all running around on Black Friday' Mission Accomplished. ;)

**Samantha Story:** Gah, thanks so much for the compliment. ;)

**IceDragonHikari:** Haha, all your usernames had a nice 'ring' to it. :)

**ZakiChiUmi:** Though I have never seen the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, I know, I know, I live under a rock; but I like your idea. I guess I'll just tweek it a bit with my own, twisted, imagination. ;)

**otose:** Well, in defense to your friend, ya know what they say, never rush art. ;) Thanks!

**Samantha:** And c'mon, can you honestly see Alex wearing hoops and a corset? That's like _begging_ for trouble. ;) But I'll weave it in later on...

**AnnabelleandEdwardForeva: **Thanks SO much for the trailer. I LOVE it! I must have watched it like twenty times already! Thank you, you rock!

**BoosterSeat3: **Boost, you're hilarious, that's all I'm gonna say. :)

* * *

**Ugh, the flu! *Sneeze.***

**BTW, check out the trailer for 'Glory of a Hero' (dumb name btw) tha AnnabelleandEdwardForeva made. More info the bottom. It's really good.**

"I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you, they try to pull me away, but they don't know the tru-"

Robert leaned forward,"Excuse me?"

I laughed, a little too loudly."I'm just singing." That song has been stuck in my head for hours.

"Miss Janeiro, if I may say, you have the strangest songs I have ever heard of." Robert muttered, he was an arm's length away from me, walking in long strides that made me struggle to keep up with him.

When he saw my hands, I knew he felt horrible. I wonder how he would react if I told him I had broken it before, _twice_. He insisted to have Andrews check on them. I grimaced, I wasn't too thrilled about the idea, but I kept my mouth shut. Robert led me to the small medical building, and grabbed the door handle, pulling it open for me so I wouldn't have to use my hands."Not to infect your hands." he explained.

I nodded."Right. Thanks."

I stepped in, noticing Charlie right away, leaning on a desk, which I guessed was used as a surgery table. He smiled at me and saluted Robert.

The building was about the size of two dining room tables, one small, broken window, and two gas lamps hanging from the ceiling on opposite ends of the room. It smelled like chloroform, rust, and a dentist's office that hasn't been cleaned in weeks. The lack of hygiene was not flattering. Two tall wooden bookshelves with peeling, dark green paint, were overflowing with white bandages, soap, and other medical supplies, including saws and pliers. I shuddered at the gleaming saw.

Robert noticed."Don't worry Miss Janeiro, your hands don't require amputation." He sounded a little annoyed, then again, he had a long day.

Robert looked around, his eyebrows furrowing."Where is the lieutenant?"

Charlie looked up from a medicine drawer."Andrews is out on the training field, one of the men fell and sprained an ankle. He sent me for a bandage wrap to secure it."

Robert gave him a nod and the man was out the door in seconds.

"I apologize, Miss Janeiro." Robert said as he turned to rummage through one of the appears I'll have to fix this up myself.

I didn't mind.

He pulled out a chair for me, shoved up against a dusty corner in the small, musty room. He had a small bowl in his hands, a tin canteen, and some white scraps of linen, the kind that mummies are wrapped in. He kneeled in front of me, taking my left hand in his.

* * *

Robert didn't bother to keep up conversation as he worked, she did all the talking. It seemed to him that women had to fill up every silent space with words. He knew she felt awkward, he did too, and was trying to lessen the tension with conversation, but his lack of response, save for occasional 'ah's' did nothing to lighten the mood, or the guilt as he was forced to stare at her hands for that matter. Each time he pressed to hard, he felt her wince, and he winced along with her. His tongue jammed deep into the side of his cheek.

He couldn't understand why it bothered him so much. Why that cloud of dread hanging over his head wouldn't drift away. Along with the clouds he had received from Forbes, it was beginning to become a dark storm. The damage was only minor cuts, scrapes, and cracked blisters, the work of a first-time field hand, nothing to worry about. Besides, his sister had shown up with ugly, bleeding scraps on her knees and shins before, when they were children, but then again, Susanna had always been...erm...'special.'

She pulled her hand away just as he was about to clean it out with mix of soap, water, and vinegar from the canteen."What's that?"

"Minor wound cleanser," he muttered, not even looking up,"vinegar, and a mixture of soap water."

She pulled her hand away completely,"_Vinegar_? Is that really necessary?"

Robert glanced up at her, blinking hard, genuinely confused."On the contrary, Miss Janeiro, vinegar helps prevent infections."

She didn't look convinced."Is it really sanitary?" she asked, clutching her right hand and looking down at Robert with the canteen of murky, tan liquid.

Robert shrugged. He wanted to tell her,'For God's sake, Miss Janeiro, will you stop behaving like a child?' But he didn't. He was surprised with himself, wondering what was wrong with him today? On the other hand, he wasn't really sure if it was sanitary or not. Andrews said it was, he was the doctor. Frankly, all he wanted to do was get a hot cup of black coffee and spend the rest of the quiet evening reading his volume of Emerson.

"Yes." he told her, making his voice sound protective and confident. He swabbed at the cuts with the mixture, aware of how it burned, and blew on them.

* * *

Me? I was touched to the core. My own mother didn't even do that, let alone some cute colonel from the Civil War that was long gone in my time. I couldn't help acting like a little kid in the waiting room for her pediatrician. I swallowed, staring up at the top of his head, covered in soft-looking, thick brown hair, as he was bent t work over my hands, dabbing and blowing, dabbing and blowing, dabbing and blowing. He wrapped the white cheese-cloth like bandages around my palms, tying them securely.

Never in my life, did I think I would be...

A.) Thrown back in time.

B.) Be on a first-name basis with some long-dead Civil War officers.

C.) Have the colonel of the historic 54th bandage my hands.

D.) Spend over two hours nailing rotting watermelons onto wooden posts...which shows you gotta dream big.

The mental list could continue, but Robert was done.

He stood up, putting the supplies he didn't use back on the wooden shelf. He brushed his hands off and looked down at me."You may retire, Miss Janeiro, I have nothing else for you to do today."

"What, no apples to stick to the ends of the rifles?" I joked.

Robert crossed his arms. He was not amused.

"After all, the watermelon idea worked so well last time..." Alex, do yourself a favor and shut up.

His scowl deepened, dark circles and fatigue more evident now."It was unorthodox, I'll admit." he muttered.

He turned swiftly, pulling the door of the medicine room open, disappearing in an instant.

I sat there for a minute. feeling horrible, until Andrews showed up and kicked me out.

I trudged through the muddy ground, beginning to freeze just as small snowflakes were beginning to fall. I looked up at the gun-metal grey sky, the falling snowflakes melting on the skin of my face. I wondered if I had hurt Robert's feelings, or if he was just tired. I just stood there, quietly, watching the weather with dull eyes, until something vibrated in my pocket.

I jumped and yelped slightly, grateful that no one was there to see, taking me a moment to realize that it was the communicator. That thing hadn't rang in what felt like months.

I pressed it to my ear."Hello?"

"You're certifiable, ya know that?" Came Marty's voice loud and clear.

I sighed."Good to hear you too, Marty, what did I do now?"

"Are you really this stupid, or do you do this just to annoy me?" I knew he was kidding, but I could still detect urgency in his voice.

I blinked."I'm really that stupid."

"Alex." he started calmly, patiently."Get out of that open space before somebody sees you talking to a shiny piece of plastic and metal."

I blushed. I _was_ an idiot. I shoved the communicator into the pocket of my dark blue army jacket and ran towards the officers' barracks. I sprinted towards my cot, glad that there was nobody else around, jumping on it and wrapping myself with the scratchy, light blue blanket. I guess I should be happy, the men got holey, tan ones that were as thin as paper, some didn't get a blanket at all. I pressed the communicator up to my ear."Done."

"Good." Marty muttered."Protocol states that I have to check up on you occasionally."

I feigned a heartbroken voice."Really?" I sniffed."I thought you called because you cared."

"Give me a break, Alex." He continued, not unpleasantly."Heaven help the man who ever really cared about you." He quoted, teasing."Besides, I'm actually supposed to call once a week, but since Strickland calls me a slacker, might as well live up to it." He chuckled.

I laughed with him.

"So, everything okay? Anything you need?" he asked.

"No, I'm good." I replied, absentmindedly toying with a loose string on the sleeve of my coat.

"That's...that's good, I guess." he muttered awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

"Marty?"

"Yeah?"

"What year is it?"

"1862."

I sighed."In _your_ time."

"Oh." he murmured, as if distracted."well, I can't tell you that, but I will say that it is _way_ beyond 2010. But I have to tell you something, about Robert..."

_"Marty, it's not right for one to know too much about the future..."_ I heard an older, intelligent voice say from Marty's end of the line. He must have been in the same room with him.

"What if it already happened?" Marty shot back to the voice on his end.

"Marty," I whispered."Was that Doc?"

He laughed. "How did you guess?" I could feel him grin.

I heard the sound of agitated footsteps, and I hissed at the Communicator."I gotta go, bye." I hung up on him.

_What _about Robert? If it already happened, shouldn't I know? From the history books in the future? No wonder I was failing history in school. I looked up when someone entered the barracks.

It was Forbes. His brow was furrowed and he was grunting, scowling and cursing at every object he saw. He approached his bunk, across from mine, digging through his stuff."Where the devil is my revolver?"

I raised an eyebrow."Aren't you supposed to keep that kind of stuff on you?"

He paused, narrowed his eyes at me, and continued searching.

"What are you planning to do, shoot Robert?" I asked, teasing him. My mouth just can't give it a rest today.

"Not a bad idea." I heard him mutter, not bothering to look up at me.

I inhaled loudly, rolling onto my side just as Charlie walked in. I waved at him, and he smiled in return. Forbes was still muttering, his teeth gritted,"I hate this bloody spit of land."

Charlie and I stared at him. He paused only long enough to say hello, and continued complaining again as he searched.

"Cabot?" Charlie called out tentatively, keeping his distance from the sputtering Forbes.

"What?" he snapped. "Enduring blistering cold every night, colonel's everywhere telling my how to do my job..." his voice got lower and lower until it was almost a whisper.

"Cabot, it's really not _too_ bad." Charlie replied quietly. Really, the guy is just too sweet.

"Look around, Charlie." Forbes gestured at the walls of the barracks, filled with crack and holes."We live in a Swiss cheese with a door."

Charlie grinned, I laughed softly. Forbes looked at us, his gaze flat."It looks like we've been using the walls for target practice."

Charlie chuckled softly.

"What do you want?" Forbes asked, not unpleasantly.

"Robert wants to speak with you. He's in his office." Charlie said quickly.

Forbes stiffened."Might as well see what his majesty wants." He spoke bitterly, pulling on his kepi.

Charlie and I exchanged loaded glances.

Forbes pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, exiting without another word.

* * *

If there was one thing Forbes was good at, it was arguing. He could weave the right amount of sarcasm and bitterness into his words to bring the receiver down. It twisted his stomach in anger to know that his 'best friend' was the most immune to it. Robert lasted the longest and refused to stumble and back off. Forbes would just have to do a double dose.

Robert deserved it. He told himself. He embarrassed you in front of all your subordinates, and he treats them as if they were dirt. Forbes gritted his teeth so hard, they could be heard well out in the darkness. He made his way towards the gas lamp shining outside Robert' office, illuminating the door in an eerie dim glow. His boots crunching on the thin layer if freshly fallen snow. By tomorrow afternoon, the ground would be covered in melting muddy slush.

Without so much as a knock, he pulled the door open, finding Robert deep in conversation with Andrews, hearing snippets of conversation, wether vinegar was really sanitary or not. Forbes frowned. It was one thing to argue with Robert alone, but another thing ith Andrews watching everything.

How he despised the man.

He talked to much, and his kissing up to Robert disgusted Forbes to no end. His very presence was obnoxious and irritating.

Forbes silently thanked the heavens when Robert dismissed the horrid man, and turned his attention to him.

"Ah, Major Forbes." he greeted, as if with mild interest."Won't you sit down?"

Forbes remained where he was, leaning on the doorway."Robert." He muttered in response to his greeting.

Robert arched an eyebrow."You left your revolver, here." He gestured at the shiny weapon, resting on his desk.

"Thank you." His voice was calm, collected, as he reached for the Colt revolver and shoved it into the gun-pocket of his navy coat.

He turned to leave."Forbes?" Robert called out. Forbes stopped abruptly, refusing to turn around."I would appreciate if you trained the recruits, _correctly_, this time."

Oooh, that struck a nerve. Forbes spun around slowly."You want to do my job? Be my guest." He spat.

He didn't wait for Robert's response. He stormed out of the building childishly, walking out of the ghostly glow of the gas lamp and into the night, even though he wanted to go back there and and argue some more.

Forbes was the type of man who believed in having the last word. Lord knows he was difficult as an adolescent. Rob knew that too.

There were many things he wanted to ask the man. Demand answers.

Questions raced through Forbes's mind, but the one that stuck most was...why was he treating the men this way? Thomas, and the poor squirrel hunter with very good aim?

He clenched and unclenched his fists, nostrils flaring, biceps flexing, kicking up snow and water as he stormed back towards the barracks.

**Trailer for Glory of a Hero! Yes! Made by the fabulous, AnnabelleandEdwardForeva! Check it out, it's really cool she did an awesome job.**

**If you want to see, go to my profile and on the bottom there is a link for the trailer. Sweet! Reivew please.**


	24. Perseverance

**Hey guys, sorry for the wait, I was sick for three days and when I went back to school, I had so much homework, things were just...hectic. :)**

**IceDragonHikari: **Thanks for the compliment and I hope you liked the trailer. :)

**smartyjonscrzy: **Haha, you noticed, if I haven't told you how much I loved that fanfic and how well-written it was, let me tell you, it was awesome! :) By the way, thanks so much for the horse information, I would have thanked you sooner but the something's wrong with the PM. BTW, this chapter doens't have that much horse stuff, that's in the next one. ;)

**Samantha: **Thanks for the advice! I'll definitely use it. Yes, Marty and Doc from the future. :)

**otose: **I know right, she did a super great job. So did you on your story, btw. :)

**Beagle Bug: **He was being a baby, huh? I have a hard tim writing Robert-Forbes 'male bonding' scenes. :)

**Samantha Story: **Thank you, I thought it would be cute on Robert's behalf. :D

**YarisVamp: **Thank you, I hope you feel better now. O}- Here's a flower (if you look at it sideways, lol.)

**starcollecter2022: **Thanks so much. I love your username, it's so pretty. :D

**Anonymous: **Thanks so much, made my boring Wednesday. :)

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**Alex POV**

I stood shivering in the silent new morning, wrapping my navy coat tighter and tighter around my torso until I could hardly breath, trying to prevent December's early morning chill from seeping in to my body. Though I hated wool, I was glad to have the warmish Civil War jacket, though I could imagine how much I will dread wearing it when summer rolls around.

I liked the mornings at Camp Readville, despite the early winter breeze that stung at my bare face, neck, and hands. The stillness of the bare trees, like black lace against the white, overcast sky, gave one a sense or serenity, and a slight twinge or regret that this atmosphere of peace will soon be broken by the cursing of Mulcahy and the gun fires of aiming men.

I leaned all my body weight on one dirty-sneakered foot, not knowing what I was doing up so early, if I had my way I'd sleep until ten-thirty every morning. I gazed up at the silver sky, reflecting on the puddles of last night's melted snow, seeing small fires being set up in front of the tents of early risers across the training field. The glowing fires were an amazing contrast to the dead, frozen landscape. The orange-gold blazes dance with contagious frenzy, full of life, spitting bright burning sparks into the air.

My attention was stolen by the beautiful sound of horse hooves clopping on frozen ground. I snapped my head to the left end of the field, where I sent most of yesterday afternoon uselessly setting up watermelons. I saw Robert, and Glory, his breathtaking vision of a horse, I couldn't take my eyes off them. Robert was leaning his forehead against Glory's broad neck. He looked totally at easy, stroking Glory's trimmed dark main, whispering something to it.

The horse nudged his muzzle against Robert's hand, and I saw him laugh softly. He walked over to Glory's left side, and mounted him with impeccable ease. It made me a little jealous, how graceful he looked as he pulled on the reins and the horse obeyed, trotting towards the watermelon posts. I leaned forward as Robert whipped out his saber, watching the limited morning sun glint off the blade. He leaned forward, seeming to gain momentum, and pulled on the horse's reins.

Glory went off like a rocket. His long, powerful legs moving like greased axles, seeming to accelerate with every second. Robert held on to the reins with one hand, and sliced off the tops of each watermelon, effortlessly. one by one, they tumbled to the slushie ground, becoming soiled from the creamy dark mud.

I stood fuming, my teeth chattering from the cold and annoyance. I spent over two hours putting those up, and he chops them down in less than fifteen seconds. Part of wanted to scream, the other, more logical (if that exists) part was telling me to just get over it. In truth, I was impressed, I bet even Stacy Westfall would have had a hard time multitasking on a horse. Then again, I could be wrong, and often I am.

* * *

**Robert POV**

Robert loved mornings like this, dark and cloudy without a trace of open sunlight shining it's gold, trying hard to break through the platinum clouds. It felt good to be alone in the middle of a large, empty field, with slightly frozen yet mushy ground. Robert loved it when no one was watching, no one he had to act like a leader to, no one to pretend in front of, to be someone he was not. Most people don't realize how hard it is to be a leader, especially when outsiders are criticizing you for what you believe is right.

Robert gritted his teeth. His sister Susanna had sent him many letters full of scandalous gossip concerning many respectable ladies and gentlemen of his hometown Boston. Some of that gossip was centered around him. Robert shoved his tongue into the side of his cheek in annoyance, it irritated him how the Mr. So and So's of Boston criticized him about his black regiment. Robert would like to see them _try_to do this job. It disgusted him and he was at a loss of why Northern families, though they are supposedly trying to free 'the bloody darkies' should continue to shun the coloreds as if they were strange inhuman beings that didn't deserve the fight for their own freedom.

Robert couldn't even find words to explain his feelings if you asked him.

The only distraction he found this morning lied in his horse, Glory. Robert smiled at the beastly animal, a kindred spirit. He put a hand on Glory's long broad neck, feeling every muscle of his throat vibrate under Robert's gloved hand. He loved the color of Glory's body. It was a dark, earthy color, like rich cocoa beans, with a tent of blood red beneath the brown. Robert lovingly caressed his dark brown, almost ebony mane, staring into his hard, coal like eyes, expressing that he was made for strength and speed.

Robert leaned his forehead against the side of Glory's neck."Glory, my friend, show me what you can do." He smiled softly as the beautiful animal snorted in response.

Robert circled Glory to his left side, pressing his saber out of the way, and grabbed hold of his tan, leather saddle, his right hand clutching the cantle at the front, and his left wrapped around the sturdy pommel. His muddy black boot slid into the metal, dirt encrusted stirrup, bouncing slightly on his right foot for an extra boost. He took a deep breath, preparing for the leap and lunged to the top of Glory's back, settling comfortably in the saddle.

Robert slid his feet through the stirrups, only the balls of his feet resting easily on the small piece of metal. He recomposed himself, relaxing his legs and body, all save for his back, which remained tall and erect, giving him the appearance of a tower of strength. Robert knew perfect posture was key to perfect riding. Grinning, Robert clutched the leather reins firmly in his ta-gloved hands, determined not to yank too hard and force Glory to twist away.

Robert sat up in his saddle, pressing his legs gently against Glory's side, using his seat to propel the horse's hindquarters forward. He leaned his body towards the horse's ear."Walk." He ordered. Guiding Glory with his reins, he rode farther out into the field, away from the watermelon posts, so Glory could gather more speed and momentum. He whipped the gleaming saber out of it's holster, relishing in the threatening sound it made when it was released.

Robert clicked his tongue and pressed his legs again, getting Glory into a simple trot. Sliding his right leg back, his left remaining at the girth, he sat deeper in his seat and squeezed with his legs. Glory's speed increased into a canter, the easy gallop soon to change into a full-out run. Robert raised his body in his saddle and continued to squeezed firmly with his legs. Glory's speed never failed to amaze him, the wind rushing through Robert's hair and Glory's mane never failed to exhilarate him. Glory's legs pumped together like greased axles, making Robert feel as if he was a part of him. As they neared the watermelon posts Robert released one hand from the reins, holding the saber out away from heir bodies, bracing himself for the blade on fruit impact.

The gleaming blade sliced through the top of the first watermelon, screaming out a loud crunch as it tumbled down to the ground, soiling itself in the blackish brown mud that greedily sucked it in. The blade glinted, another slice, another epic tumble of green watermelon. Robert bit his lip hard in concentration, his eyes focused on the remaining watermelons on each side of him, barely having time to lean his body left and right to cut each green, unripened top in half. With another rip, the last watermelon tumbled to the ground with a finishing splat

Flushed, Robert sat back deeper in his saddle, calmly whispering into Glory's ear."Whoa, steady boy, whoa." Glory reduced himself to a slow trot almost immediately, walking off to the barrack end of the field, where bright orange campfires were beginning to dot the campsite of early risers. Robert grinned victoriously, full of excitement. He had not done that since the time he spent in the Second Massachusetts Infantry.

His grin vaporized when he noticed Miss Janeiro and Forbes convercing with each other off to the side, both awaiting him for different reasons. Robert's small, quiet world where leadership did not exist was suddenly under attack. He wanted to ignore them, but that was unprofessional and childish. When Forbes noticed him, he made a move to approach, and Robert tugged on Glory's reins, glad that he decided to turn around, granting him a short moment when his face wasn't seen, giving him a quick chance to recompose himself, wiping his face clean of the vigorous ride he had just enjoyed, and back to an expressionless mask of reality.

* * *

**Forbes POV**

Forbes was surprised beyond words to find Alex awake before him. It was one of those rare days when he was not the one to drag her lazy self out of bed. He wondered what her reasons were. If they were much the same, or perhaps different from his. He doubted that she would have the nerve to speak this way to Robert in which he was about to do now. She stood off to the side, tugging her coat around her small frame, her breath coming out in small, foggy clouds, her head cocked to the side, part of her face hidden with a curtain of her dark brown hair. Her eyes were fixed intently on an object in front of her. Forbes followed her gaze and wasn't surprised that the object of her stare was Robert.

He smirked, approaching her, but decided not to say anything."Morning, Alex." He greeted. His smirk deepened as she yelped in surprise.

She turned around, flushed."Oh hey Forbes, what's up?"

Forbes arched an eyebrow. What's up? That was the most ridiculous question anyone has ever asked him. Frowning, he looked up at the sky, as if the answer was written there. He shook his head."I was surprised to see you up so early." He teased.

Her eyes remaining fixed on Robert, the corner of her mouth lifted into a smirk."Whatever Forbes, Charlie has told me many stories about you in the Second, you weren't exactly an early riser yourself."

Forbes grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets."Touche."

"That's so cool." She murmured, inclining her head in Robert direction. Forbes shifted his gaze to him, gritting his teeth. Robert was seated on top of his pride, Glory, a look of determined concentration sketched onto his face. Forbes too, was impressed, thought he hated to admit it to himself, about how effortless Robert made basic cavalry training look, slicing the watermelon heads off one by one, their soft green peels splashing in the mud.

Forbes caught Robert's eye as he road past them, and took a step towards him. Without another word to Miss Janeiro, he left her standing alone, approaching Robert. She didn't say anything, but he could feel her curious eyes burning a hole in his retreating back. Forbes made his way across the field, and Robert met him half way on his horse. Forbes promised himself that he would try to put his itching sarcasm to the side and make an effort to act civilized.

Robert called from the top of Glory's broad back, giving him a small, professional smile."Good Morning Major, you're up early."

The corner of Forbes's mouth twisted down into a frown. He leaned his body weight back on one foot, and placed his knuckles calmly against himself."I want to talk to you."

Robert cocks his head slightly, then with a small shrug, slid his saber back into its holster."Certainly."

Forbes threw back his shoulders, crossing his arms."If you wouldn't mind getting down from your horse."

Robert blinked, at a loss for a moment, and slid his saber back into it's holster. Clutching onto the saddle and reins for support, Robert easily slid of Glory's back. Turning, he handed the reins to a bewildered Alex, speaking firm orders to her in a low voice, then adding, more loudly."Excuse us." She gave a nod and shuffled away, nervously tugging on Glory's reins to follow. Robert turned his attention back to Forbes."Better?" He asked, just as testily.

Forbes bit down a nasty comeback, exhaling loudly."Why do you treat the men this way, Robert?" His hands retreating back to his hips.

Robert looks baffled, confusion etched into his frown. He shifts his weight uncomfortably."How should I treat them?" He squints at Forbes.

Forbes, irritated, scrunches his forehead."Like _men_?" He hated stating the obvious.

Robert blinks slowly, chewing on his bottom lip.

Forbes leans forward, taking that as a sign that he was winning, an encouraging thought. He squares his shoulders, trying to give the appearance of towering over Robert. His burning voice drowning out Mulcahy's obscene orders in the distance."And what about Thomas? Why are you so hard on him?"

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**Robert POV**

This time, Robert doesn't hesitate, with a grit of his teeth he surges forward."He's not a very good soldier." He raises his posture to match Forbes's."I'm getting these men ready for battle." It bothered Robert that Forbes was refusing to understand. Couldn't he see that the men could be dead within the time it takes them to reload?

Forbes shakes his head, impossible as ever, speaking earnestly."Robert, they're already as good as the seventh ever was." They can be better, Robert thought."They march well, they're disciplined." Forbes willed him to see the point, gesturing often with his hands.

Robert pursed his lips."No thanks to you."

Forbes nostrils flare as he lurches forward."I beg your pardon?" He hissed, his eyes angry slits.

Robert doesn't even flinch."You heard me."

Robert knew the men were well-trained, but they were here to fight a war, not just for window dressing. Though Robert himself was not sure how true that was. Judging by the letter, he grits his teeth, that he got from the war department.

Forbes grinds his teeth together so hard, Robert can hear them. His anger rising along with his hostile tone."Who do you think you are? Acting the 'high up colonel'!" He roars, throwing a hand up in the air. Robert feels the Antietam wound on his neck now more than ever. Forbes leans forward, so the friends are standing eye to eye. Neither flinching as a determined brown pair bores into a piercing green-blue."You seem to forget that I know you."Forbes's voice drops dramatically."And so does Thomas."

With one last glare, Forbes sidesteps him and walks away in the direction of the barracks. Robert bites on his lip, thinking slowly, shooting at Forbes's triumphant back with an indignant stare. He doesn't seem to realize that this battle is far from over.

Robert had never felt so persistent in his life."Forbes!"

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**Forbes POV**

Forbes freezes in mid-step, his boot hovering centimeters off of the melting ground. His eyes narrow, and he sucks in his breath in defiance. What does the man want now? This was supposed to be his moment. Robert's perseverance irritates him, but he can't help but admire him anyway. Forbes turns slowly on the muddy heel of his boot, his eyes spearing into Robert's skull.

"If you don't believe in what we're doing here," Robert calls out, licking his dry lips,"then maybe you shouldn't be part of it!"

That is more than Forbes could care to take. This wasn't some cult, dammit. His face twists into utter disbelief and persistent annoyance."Part of _what_?" He spat, his voice dripping with disgust."_Huh_?" He stalks closer to Robert, leaning in to yell in his face. His voice soaring upward. Robert's calmness irritates him, he is like a mountain, impossible to move."LEFT! RIGHT! LITTLE FINGER ALONG THE SEEMS OF YOUR TROUSERS?" He screams, his fists trembling in anger. The slight accent of his Irish ancestors contaminates his speech.

Robert swallows, his throat raw, his breathing unusually hard. It was obvious that the sharp words flying hit Robert like arrows. Forbes leaned closer, his right hand making gestures as wood a professor trying to make a dunce understand. His escalating voice suddenly dropped to a low, tense whisper."Marching, is probably all they'll ever get to do, Robert."

Forbes softens slightly, instantly regretting having said that. The betrayel sketched into Robert's face left evident marks in his expressive eyes."It is my job." Robert begins quietly, leaving his bite-marked lip alone."To get these men ready." He takes a deep breath, licking his chapped lips."And I _will_." His eyes dart in every direction, settling hard on Forbes's eyes."They have risked their lives to be here, they have given up they're _freedom_. I owe them as much as they have given; I owe them my _freedom_." The heavy passion swelling in Robert's voice overwhelmes Forbes, making him feel like a fool for his words; but he'd be damned if it showed."My _life_if necessary." Robert highlights and punctuates each word, willing Forbes to open up his eyes and understand."Maybe so do you, Cabot."

That strikes a blow in Forbes's mind, and deep in his heart. The impact of Robert's wisdom made Forbes question his ability to keep from falling to the ground. It was as if the clouds moved away and light burst through, illuminating Robert's words, the golden ink of their wisdom sketched forever into Cabot's memory. He doubted that it was something he would ever forget. Forbes crossed his arms, nodding slowly. Robert's wince is hardly noticeable, but Forbes doesn't miss it. Robert must have taken his nod as another one of his sarcastic actions, thus he murmurs."I think you do."

Forbes nods again, none too faster than the last time, he pulls on his smirk, to mask the jaw-dropping effect Robert's words has on him. It was unlike Forbes, at least not often, that his ego wouldn't allow such an act. Instead, with a sweeping gestures, he bows low, dramatically to Robert, as if daring him to continue, to think that they agreed. Robert recoiled as if Forbes had slapped him, the long black feather of his navy ten-gallon hat brushing his cheek due to the occasional whispers of wind.

Forbes throws his shoulders back, squaring them, ever-so-slightly angry with himself at his arrogant behavior. He lifts his chin boldly leaving Robert alone, his long strides aimed back towards the barracks.

**Didn't really know how to do this scene, sorry for there not being much Alex-Robert interaction. :( Will do better next time. Review please.**


	25. Get Off of My Back

**Hey guys, I'm so sorry for not updating in like, forever. Life was pretty crowded, not to mention developing a fatal case of writer's block. So I made it extra long for ya. Enjoy, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and review please. ;)**

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**otose: **Yeah, I like it when Forbes and Robert are best friends, not worst enemies. Merry Christmas. :)

**Beagle Bug: **Haha, thanks for the reminder, he's totally coming up, don't worry, I won't leave out our adorable little drummer boy. ;D

**IceDragonHikari: **Lol, that was originally the plan! ;) Thank you.

**Samantha Story: **Thanks again so much, your review really brightened up my rainy day. :) I hope you feel better. :{D

**Anonymous: **Haha, well you did. Thanks!

**BK Love-ah: **Thank you thank you thank you! Haha, your user-name makes me want french fries...

**smartyjonescrzy:**Poor smarty, I hope you're feeling better now. :) Everybody seems to be getting sick. I am so glad that you liked the horse scenes. Thanks so much for your help. Ya, I did look up Stacey Westfall. Did you see the video of her in her wedding dress riding that horse? It looked so pretty.

**YarisVamp: **Haha, thanks so much for making me feel better on my describing abilities. :)

**Hannah: **Thanks a lot, Hannah, and I'll do my best to fit it in. :)

**Anntrell: **Thanks so much! Congratulations! Break a leg you guys. :) *Please, not literally.* :)

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I stood on my tippy-toes behind Glory's broad back; with my over-flowing supply of feminine curiosity, it made me really want to find out what was going on. Robert politely told me to get lost so he can have a civilized convo with his buddy Forbes. Civilized is no longer the word I would use to describe their heated little argument...er..._discussion_.

Though I could not hear what they were saying, until they started screaming at each other that is, I could read their facial and body expressions. It was pretty sad. Both were angry, reminding me of some cartoon characters that had steam puffing out of their ears. Forbes's yell-attack was so sudden and loud, it made me jump, Glory snorting; annoyed with me."LEFT! RIGHT! LITTLE FINGER ALONG THE SEEMS OF THEIR TROUSERS!" Pardon my French but...

WTF?

Both of them refused to back down, retorting venomous comebacks to one another, firing sharp words at each other and having their own mini Civil War right there on the field. It was kind of like watching Superman versus Batman. Never mind; for Superman was a loser who changed in phone booths. What Forbes did next struck me off-guard, as it obviously did to Robert, as well. He bowed low and slowly to Robert, giving him one last smirking glare before strolling off into the direction of the barracks. I guess some things never change, no matter what century you're in, male 'bonding' doth exist.

Robert stood alone on the icy field, shoulders slumped, staring up at the silver sky. He must have felt my eyes on him, for he snapped his neck in my direction, his eyes boring into my own. Oh snap, he caught me eavesdropping. Perfect. Play it cool, Alex, play it cool. Yes it's a shame that Alex does not know what 'cool' is. I ducked behind Glory's big stomach, but he_ moved_, exposing me again. Oh no, today was _not _my day. Tomorrow's not looking too good either.

Robert cocked his head, as if debating whether or not to approach Camp Readville's very own village idiot. Oh joy! I was just granted the honor of another reprimanding lecture from my cute, but nevertheless strict, commanding officer. I can die happy now! I dropped to the floor, pretending as if I was just tying my shoes, totally _not_ looking at him.

I felt him stop a few feet away from me, clearing his throat."Miss Janeiro, did you loose something?" A twinge of teasing in his usual, knowing tone.

I looked up at him from the muddy ground, blinking like a fool."No." I murmured."I just wanted to, you know, tie these laces." I added, pointing to the almost unrecognizable pair of Converse.

Robert clasped his hands behind his back, arching one shapely eyebrow."You don't say." He murmured quietly. He gave me a look that said I should not consider acting as a possible career future.

"Excuse me." I muttered, scrambling up before he offered me a hand, remembering what happened _last_ time.

Awkward.

He looked up at the sky, as if searching for what to say. I kept my mouth shut too, learning from experience that nothing wise ever comes out of there. We stood like that for a few minutes, while Robert's eyes fell on his horse, jumping back and forth from me to Glory, making myself feel like some bloody science experience, the way he stared at me, it got under my skin, how he looked at me as if there was something wrong me.

He wouldn't be too far off.

He bit his much abused lip, while I pushed my annoying hair away again."Miss Janiero, do you know how to ride a horse?" He asked.

I thumped my fist against my thigh, twisting my face nervously."N-no." I replied, refusing to look at him.

He let out a sigh, and when I looked up, his face was polite, but his eyes wore a 'now why does that not surprise me?' expression."Someone should have to teach you then."

I grew up in a suburb pal, where would we keep a horse, in the garage? Robert continued."We are in a _war_, and one can never know when riding may prove handy."

"Uh-huh." I retorted, scratching my head like an ignorant backwoods hillbilly."Is he hard to handle?" I asked, truly curious.

Robert didn't look at me, too engrossed as he affectionately patted Glory's head. Lucky horse, ahem."Well, he_ is _a very large animal." Robert trailed off absentmindedly.

You've seen things bigger than that, Godzilla Boy.

"That's cool." I replied, ignoring the fact that he didn't answer my question.

_That _got Robert to strip Glory of his attention. Of course he doesn't miss mah slip-ups."Pardon?"

"I said 'thats nice'." I shoved my almost frost-bitten hands deep into the pockets of my jeans. A girl in pants, the scandal!

Robert wrinkled his forehead, surveying the field."Where is Major Forbes?" He muttered, probably to himself.

After he yelled at you? Hmm, he probably went to vent about it to Charlie.

"I don't know, Sir." I shrugged, helplessly. A lot of good that did him.

Robert looked me thoughtfully, the kind of look your doctor gives you when debating if you really need that flu shot. I stiffened. Robert handed me the reins."Please take Glory back to the stables, you know where they are."

I sure do, I still have manure on my heel to prove it. Lovely.

Robert, scratch that, _Colonel Shaw_, mouthed a thank you, striding away from me with grace and finesse. I envied that. I didn't like calling Robert 'colonel' or anything to his face, it felt too weird, the guy was barely older than myself. So I just called him 'Sir', but mostly 'Hey'. I tugged on Glory's reins, falling into step with the four-legged creature, walking about an arm's length away from him.

He was so big it kinda freaked me out, making me feel so small and unimportant. It was really humbling. I reached out to tentatively brush my fingertips over his beautiful mane. He did not seem to notice, following me obediently to the stables, like he knew the drill. The mushy wet ground was replaced by a thick layer of golden straw as we passed the threshold into the large wooden stables. Though it wasn't that much warmer in here than outside, it was comforting and cozy.

Until _he_ showed up.

I ducked my head behind Glory's broad neck, his smooth, brown coat grazing across my cheek. I tried_ not_ to get him to notice me. Fat chance. I was invisible in the 21rst century, but here it's like I have large neon signs attached to me, saying _'look at me_!' Of course he noticed. Trip stopped shoveling oats into a large wooden manger, and leaned against a wooden post, smirking at me.

I pretended like I had no idea he was even there; acting like he, his ignorant lackeys, and Jupiter weren't didn't exist. I guided Glory into a wooden stall, thankfully he did not give me any lip. I backed out of it, hoping to get out of here in just one piece; instead of torn apart by Trip's jeers. I admit that I was afraid of the guy. My Converse foot landed in something warm and squishy. I looked down.

Ah, but of course.

"Ew." I groaned, as the sharp odor of the manure invaded my nostrils, forcing me to breathe through my mouth. I dragged my foot through the straw, trying to wipe the greenish-brownish mess off of the rubber sole. Trip's laughter was hard to miss. I looked up, his Goon #1 was doubled over, shrieking, even wimpy Jupiter was grinning.

I arched an eyebrow, what could possibly be funny? Jupiter tossed me a dirty rag, probably from a burlap sack that had once contained oats."Thanks." I muttered, wiping the remaining..._junk_ off my shoe.

"You s-stepped in it didn't ya?" He asked in his usual stuttering.

I jammed my tongue into my cheek. It always annoyed me how people ask the obvious. I mean, we're in a _war_, man, there's no time for stupid questions. Ya dig? I should have your hat for that, snatch it right off your big head. I didn't say that, of course, the poor guy was trying to be nice. I was just a little touchy, like I said today was _not_ my day. I smiled at him instead."Yes, yes I did."

The bugle sounded.

Ah, saved by the bell. I realized it indicated training time, as the men dropped what they were doing and rushed outside for another tongue lashing from the ever so gentlemanly Sergeant Mulcahy. But there were some things that took my a while to get. Like 'dinner is at oh six hundred.' What the heck was that supposed to mean? There were only twenty four hours in a day, not six hundred! Believe me, I know, I watch the TV show.

* * *

Forbes was in the kitchen when Robert found him, getting a hot, black cup of tasteless coffee from Jerry the fat, but friendly, cook. Though there was no more 'static' between the two friends, there was no bonding either. They were empty, and it would be awkward for a while, even though they never had trouble recovering their friendship after their bombing fights.

Rob asked him to train Miss Janeiro to ride a horse, saying that one never knows when she might need that skill. It took very ounce of Forbes's self-control not to burst out laughing at the ridiculous notion of Alex on a horse. If she can manage to break her neck by tripping over her own two feet, on the horse she will manage to kill herself, Forbes, and the poor horse as well.

But Robert's word was law, and here he was, standing at the opposite end of the stables, smirking as several privates shuffled past him when the training bugle sounded. Alex was shooting daggers at Glory, dragging her manure encrusted foot over the blonde straw, trying to get every ounce of the revolting substance off of her odd looking shoes.

Forbes laughed, approaching her, causing her jump. She glared at him too."Geez Forbes." She exclaimed."Don't do that, sweeping in here so suddenly like the bloody plague." She sighed, murdering the manure on her shoe with a lethal stare."Knock next time."

Forbes grinned."It's nice to see you again too."

She loosened up."Sorry." She must have realized that he wasn't leaving, and she stopped and stared at him, crossing her arms."'Sup Forbes?"

He frowned, he had a hard time keeping up with he peculiar intellect."Pardon?"

She shrugged, dismissing his question."Did you want something?"

"Actually, I'm here to help you. Robert wants me to show you how to ride a horse." He explained, smirking at the amusing thought.

She muttered something incoherent.

Forbes leaned forward."What?"

"I asked what makes you think I can't ride a horse?" She responded indignantly.

"Alex, are you trying to develop a sense of humor?" Forbes retorted, quirking an eyebrow.

Her frown broke into a large grin.

Forbes smiled back."Come on, you lost cause."

He led her to a large horse. A tall, long-legged blonde mare with huge black eyes and a long, tan mane."Who's this?" Alex asked, cocking her head at it."Lemme guess, Honor, Praise? I mean, Glory's taken."

Forbes smirked at her."Alex, you're really not that funny."

"You're not exactly a stand-up comedian yourself." She retorted, grinning at him.

Forbes raised an eyebrow."Touche." He muttered, turning his attention to the beautiful, long-legged mare."This is the horse you're going to be riding today."

"Wow." She murmured, a ridiculous sounding word that Forbes did not understand either."Is it yours."

"No, this is Charlie's horse." He replied, grinning."I don't trust you on mine."

She smacked his arm, laughing."You're just like my brother and his stupid pick-up truck."

Forbes was confused."What the devil is a pick-up truck?"

Alex looked a little panicked. She squeezed her eye lids together tightly, closing her them shut. Forbes decided that a 'pick-up truck' must have something to do with feminine issues and Forbes liked to avoid that subject all together."Never mind." He muttered. Alex gave him a grateful smile in return. Forbes took hold of the horse's reins and continued to lead it out of the big stable-barn.

* * *

Gosh that was embarrassing. I felt like kicking myself as I followed Forbes out of the stables. What the heck? Slipping up and saying 'stables?' I knew I wasn't exactly Einstein, but come on, that was even pushing it for me. We approached the training field, one that I was sick and tired of seeing, surprised to find it empty. I asked Forbes about it, and he replied that the troops were training indoors today.

Lucky them.

I thought, pulling the navy uniform jacket tighter around me to block out the cold. Forbes stopped in the precise middle of the frozen field, the thin brown sheet of glass broke as we stepped on the ground, crushing the ice."Climb on." Forbes gestured up at the brown leather saddle on the horse's back.

No way. That horse was huge. Did he honestly think I was up to it? My bravado was ripped away and I sulked, crossing my arms."What do you mean?"

Forbes frowned."What part of 'get on' do you not understand?"

The 'on' part."It's just that I don't think this horse will like me." I replied, which was only part of the truth.

Forbes snorted, stepping over to the horse's side and doing something to the saddle. He strapped it in tighter, a belt like thingy around the horse's tummy, then slipped a couple of fingers under the belt. Seemingly satisfied, he slipped them out and looked at me, leaning on the horse."Don't be ridiculous, Nelson could not possibly hurt you."

So he was Nelson, the little bugger. Well, not exactly_ little_."I'm so sure."

Forbes quirked an annoyed eyebrow."Stop acting like a quivering milk maid, Alex. Just get on it, it isn't difficult."

"I _don't_ want to." I whined like the pathetic little baby I am.

Forbes swallowed hard."You seemed fine with Glory." He reasoned.

"Glory was ten times smaller than Nelson." I can't believe Charlie actually rides this thing. The horse was scary. He was fat-ish, more like muscly, with a long flowing mane that made him look like he was some kind of Fabio. His black eyes seemed to glare at me, his nostrils flaring, as if every fiber of his being was daring me to get on.

"Alex, just climb on." Forbes retorted, cupping his hands by Nelson's belly, ready to give me a boost."It's perfectly safe."

"Are you sure?" I cried, earnestly searching his face for a clue that he wasn't lying.

Forbes shrugged, glancing up at me."Alex, he worst that could happen is you getting thrown off." He spoke calmly. Yeah, thrown off and breaking my back in a century where people cut off broken body parts. Nice.

"Thanks." I snapped sarcastically."That makes me feel _so_ much better."

He waited for me to set my foot down into his palms. I grabbed his shoulder, and he boosted me up. Gathering momentum I swung my left leg over Nelson's side, landing (astonishingly gracefully) on to his back. Forbes stared at me in surprise, as if he had been expecting me to fall off the other side and snap my neck. Alas no broken bones! Life's good.

I was right, Nelson did not like me. _At all_. He swung his head back and forth, snorted, and stomped his hooves. C'mon, buddy, chill. Forbes barked orders at me. Things like: 'slacken the reins, it's too tight!' or 'Alex! Sit up straight! Don't slouch!' I could tell Forbes was annoyed at my slouching, but he didn't loose patience. And he didn't make me ride side-saddle either, saying how ridiculous he thought that method was. I guess I _did _have some luck. I lasted ten minutes on that horse, much to our surprise, before Nelson's patience finally wore thin.

He jolted, ever so slightly, but I guess the saddle was not tight enough, and I ended up kissing the ground. It didn't really hurt as bad as I expected it to. Everything was sore, especially my thighs. The movie Spirit was coming back to me. Forbes 'whoa'ed at Nelson, calming him down, then lurched to me. This was like deja vu, from that horrible first day when my long chain of over-reactions was triggered. I still had a faint scrape on my knee from falling off of that bloody podium.

"Alex, are you hurt?" His voice and face were concerned, but his eyes were dancing with laughter.

"I'm fine." I spat, pretty peeved."But I'm never getting on a horse again."

"What's the matter Alex?" He made his tone sound teasing, like that of a little boy."Are you frightened?"

_Yes_, Alex scared. Alex did not know she could be so scared. Alex's pants are a little damp."No." I retorted, pulling myself up, ignoring his outstretched hand.

Forbes smiled apologetically, then exhaled a long, tired sigh."Let's try this again."

* * *

On his way to the horse stalls, Robert passed the fields, stopping in the sketchy shadows of a bare tree to watch Cabot's training progress. Miss Janeiro seemed to be reasoning with Forbes, gesturing wildly at Nelson to make her argument clear. Forbes replied to her with short monosyllables that Robert could not hear, but see the major's eyes gleaming with amusement.

Robert was just glad that they were finally doing something resourceful, instead of loitering, their usual hobby. He entered the wooden stalls, manure odor attacking his nostrils and crisp straw crunching under his black leather boots. He led Glory out of his stall, showing the beautiful brown creature outside. He mounted on the left side, grabbing hold of the reins.

"Walk." He ordered, guiding Glory to the make-shift gates of Camp Readville.

Robert had a thick stack of letters in the inside pocket of his woolen navy coat. He had decided to deliver them himself, instead of commanding somebody else to do it. Mostly because his eyes were tired of the dull, peeling brown color of Camp Readville's buildings, structures, and endless slushy dirt, and he badly needed a change of scenery. Even a brief one.

Robert sensed the stares of men and women as he rode into town, his horse's hooves splashing the puddles in the almost frozen mud. He tried to keep his eyes down, but the prickly feeling of stares on his body made him turn around. His eyes fell on a small group of young women, pulling their flower-print bonnets over their ears. They giggled when they met his eyes, causing Robert to blush and look away.

The remainder of the ride was uneventful. Robert stopped at the post office and 'parked' his horse in front of the wooden sidewalk, connected to all of the shops, wrapping around the entire block. He wrapped Glory's reins securely around a tall wooden post, serving for just those purposes. He trusted Glory enough to know that he would not go anywhere, regardless. But it was routine.

Robert deposited his letters, stalking out of the small dressing room-sized post office, beginning to undo the tied reins, when a small shop across the street caught his eye. Robert arched one shapely, dark eyebrow. He felt drawn to it; which was ridiculous since the store only sold accessories for _women_, judging by the window display.

Nevertheless, Robert stepped off of the wooden 'sidewalk' and strolled across to it. He opened the small white door, a shiny silver bell jingled as he went inside. The shopkeeper looked up, instantly ghosting to Robert's side."How may I help you, sir?" The balding man with gleaming gold spectacles asked him, a slight English accent noted in his speech.

Robert was about to decline, he himself having no idea why he even_ thought _about going into that small shop; but the old shopkeeper beat him to it."A Christmas gift for a young _lady_, perhaps?"

Christmas, was it that time of year already? He felt slightly homesick. But the 'young lady' idea was a bit embarrassing. Robert felt himself blushing. The shopkeeper took that as a yes."Then might a suggest a hair ribbon, Colonel?" He asked, glancing at Robert's kepi, clutched securely in his hand, to determine his rank. Robert couldn't speak, only nod like a fool.

The shopkeeper led him to a small display of silk ribbons, with small crystal charms attached to one of the ends."Newly arrived from Paris." The shopkeeper gave him a toothy grin, a gleam in his eye as if he was telling a good joke."Confiscated valuables from captured Southern blockade runners."

Robert was drawn back by the blockade runner statement, but he did not say anything about it. He reached for a midnight blue, almost purple silk ribbon, with a small rose charm at the end. It would match her jacket as well as her eyes. Robert swallowed and felt like kicking himself when he realized he was about to purchase something for his camp assistant. His whole body burned but his hand refused to put it back. Besides, Miss Janeiro's hair was always falling into her face, _and_it was Christmas. Robert convinced himself that this was for professional purposes _only_.

The shopkeeper looked as if he could dance."That would be a quarter, sir."

Robert nodded, digging into his pocket and producing one, whole, shiny quarter. The shopkeeper smiled at the quarter."Thank you, young man. Merry Christmas!"

"M-merry Christmas." Robert spoke softly, for the first time since he entered the store.

He stepped out into the cold air, the clouds threatening him with snow. But Robert didn't mind, he was too busy thinking about the unusual, yet pretty Miss Janeiro; and her dancing eyes that reminded him of Christmas on Shaw Island. He glanced down at the small red box in his palm, wondering if he would ever have the courage to give it to her.

* * *

**Ha! Rhett Butler was a blockade runner! Is it just me or does that title sound...dashing? Excuse my randomness for the comment and the chapter. I've got a sugar rush going. =p BTW, if you haven't seen that horse cartoon 'Spirit' then you might not get the chapter name. Merry merry Christmas (my absolute favorite holiday) and a Happy New Year!**

***Sings opera style* Revieeeeeew! **


	26. Insult to Injury

**Thanks so much for all of the reviews, it was like an awesome Christmas present! Chapter up! Lol, review please.**

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**otose:** I know, right? That song is so catchy.

**Anonymous:** Yes, it's a really pretty movie, I agree. Thank you so much.

**smartyjonescrzy:** Lol, you miss nothing, do you? Mare a female? How embarrassing! I was typing this out on Microsoft and my internet was down, so I couldn't double check ith you. I literally turned red when I read that. Internet or no internet, next time I'l wait until it's running again t double check with you before I post. Lol. I heart Spirit by the way, the movie as so pretty. (And the soundtrack is the bomb.) The Civil War trivia was fascinating. That's so cool that your grandpa was in the Union army! I'm kinda jealous, lol, in the 1860's my family was still in Europe. :)

**Beagle Bug:** Hey! Did you get that camera? I used to have one of those when I was 8, but I couldn't get it to work so I got mad and threw it at a wall. (Got in so much trouble, lol.)

**YarisVamp:** Lol, no I don't think you're immature, and believe me, your paragraph is much appreciated. :D

**Rainstar of LightningClan:** Don't worry, I ADORE long reviews. I feel bad for not writing a longer one for you, there was so much I wanted to say in your stories, they are so good! I love the elegance and descriptions. I really think yo should continue 'True Character.' And thanks so much for making me feel funny, lol, that really made my day.

**High Queen Crystal:** I better warn Robert to start running for his life, ROFL, it would be a miracle if he survived you, lol.

**Samantha:** Thank you! Lol, I think one-liners make the world of comedy go round. ;D Lol.

**IceDragonHikari: **I know, right? It's an awesome movie and I love the soundtrack.

**Gigi:** Lol, Gigi, I swear you made me smile so big my cheeks hurt. Haha! ;D

**Samantha Story:** Actually I was thinking about the period thing, should I include it? Knowing Alex, she would make an awkward situation out of it. :) (Good idea, what do you think?)

**Jazmonster:** Thank you so much! I am SO excited to read your story, I loved it. Thanks so much for posting it, lol. Happy Holidays to you as well.

* * *

"That. Is. Enough." Forbes gasped from the ground, cradling his probably throbbing head in his hands as I gazed down at him from the Nelson, biting my lip apologetically."For one bloody day."

I winced at him."Sorry."

I wasn't really sure how it happened. One moment I was mounting Nelson for the thousandth time, using Forbes's shoulder and hands for support, the next I sent my left leg over Nelson's side, and before I knew it, Forbes was on the ground grunting and moaning. Normally this situation would have been amusing, heck it still is, but the vicious glare he was sending in my direction totally cut off my laughing power.

"No, that is it. I'm done for the day." He replied bitterly, pulling himself off of the muddy ground, dusting specks of dirt off of his wrinkle-free blue vest.

I felt my eye twitch. Ew."I said I was sorry, dude, lighten up."

Forbes blinked at me."Lighten up?" He repeated, flabbergasted.

I cringed, squatting my neck, my chin against my soldier."Please?" I squeaked meekly.

Forbes rubbed his eyes."Alex, I hate to ask you this, but are you deaf as well? I already know you're blind, if you were granted an ounce of vision you would have been able to see me instead of kicking my face." His voice had a teasing edge to it and he could not suppress his trademark smirk for long."I have never thought that having a foot in my mouth would turn out so literally."

Which shows you gotta dream big.

I grinned at him, clutching onto Nelson's reins for support."Well we all learn something new, don't we?"

Forbes just stared at me.

He took a few deep breaths and reached for me, his arm ghosting to my waist as he pulled me off the large horse in one liquid movement."Thanks." I muttered, laughing with him.

Forbes sobered, standing quiet for a moment, then he sighed."Best we go find Robert, eh?"

"Eh."

* * *

Robert stood with Charlie in the training barn; a large, drafty brick building with a hole-filled roof made out of straw and scraps of wood. It made Robert shake his head. Just because they were a colored regiment, they had to endure the worst possible accommodations; and made Robert want to clench his fists in anger and annoyance.

He was here to observe the sergeant's training techniques. After his talk with him about Thomas, Robert noticed Mulcahy tone his favorite, inappropriate slurs down a notch or two, still using them often, just not in every sentence in front of very word. Nevertheless, the man never failed to look strong and intimidating to the men, and the majority of the recruits showed him submission and the respect he deserved. it made Robert smirk to himself to realize that even some of the officers are afraid of the man.

Sergeant Mulcahy was in the process of training the men to stab using the sharp bayonets on their rifle-muskets. He was shouting drills at them as they sank their bayonets into burlap bags of hay that hung from the ceiling in front of each soldier. He shouted"Thrust! Develop! En guarde! Thrust! Develop! En guarde!" Eliciting loud warrior cries from the men as they shoved the bayonets deep into the burlap bags of straw, ripping and tearing the flimsy material.

Small fires dotted the edges of the falling-apart building in an effort to keep the men warm. Even though Robert was wearing a dark blue, woolen cloak, he noticed the winter air was still cold. But the men's clothes were worse. Thin brown cotton clung to their shivering bodies, but they hardly noticed. They needed uniforms. Robert grimaced at the thought of how hard it would be to _get_ those uniforms.

Robert's attention was stolen away by the sound of stumbling footsteps approaching from behind him. He turned slightly only to find Forbes and Miss Janeiro, her eyes glossy and mouth grinning, laughing at something Forbes had said. Robert clenched his teeth. Back so soon? He should have to speak to Forbes on the subject of Miss Janeiro, they were getting much too close.

Robert snapped his head back to the front and bit his lip, as she and Forbes went to stand off to the side next to Charlie. Robert blushed deeply. He was jumping to conclusions saying his major and his assistant were too close when he was the one who went off and bought her a present not an hour ago. Robert felt ridiculous. The small red package safely hidden inside his coat pocket burned him. He was irritated that he had to struggle to pay attention to the drilling as the glossy ribbon continued to steal his attention.

It mocked him.

Robert noticed Mulcahy stop in front of a young man. Robert bit his lip sheepishly when he recognized him as the man he shot Forbes's revolver over his head just a few days ago. Mulcahy paused."You're not at dancing school, son! Take his head off!" He barked. The young man gave him an assuring nod to indicate that he had heard him, his jaw set and his eyes blazing in determination, sinking his hard rifle into the soft material.

Apparently Sergeant Mulcahy was satisfied with the boy's response, as he stalked to the next person; a tired gravedigger that Robert met at Antietam."Thrust! Develop! En Guarde!" Mulcahy continued, on and on and on as the men thrusted and developed Robert had to admit that he was glad to have Mulcahy here. The man really _did_ his job.

Or at least he was glad until the sergeant stopped in front of Thomas.

* * *

Thomas froze as he felt the sergeant stop behind him, the men quieting down, eager to see what the white officer would do. Thomas swallowed hard, fear gripping his educated mind and ice sliding slowly down his spine, leaving a stinging, figurative trail behind itself, as he clutched his rifle with his bony hands in a death grip around the barrel and handle, as if squeezing it for support.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph." Thomas heard Mulcahy mutter, annoyed."_What_ do we have here?"

Thomas allowed himself a tentative glance at the sergeant, who stood frowning at Thomas as if he was some sort of insect.

"Bonnie Prince Charlie and his little toy bayonet." Mulcahy spat, mocking him."You're not reading your books now!"

Thomas dragged a sleeve across his nose, pretending not to notice the ignorant Trip smirking at him. The other members of _A Company_stared at him, some with amusement, and some with fear for him. Frankly, Thomas was a little scared as well. Especially when Mulcahy's hands reached out and pushed him into a larger training circle."Go on, get over there!"

Thomas circled around to avoid hitting anyone with his long rifle, and froze to stare at Mulcahy.

"Stab me!" The sergeant ordered, his lips barely visible underneath his thick mustache.

Thomas frowned. Perhaps he had not heard correctly."What?"

Mulcahy rolled his eyes, taking in a short, irritated breath."Stab _me_." He spoke much louder, but _much_ more slowly, pointing at his chest.

Thomas hesitated, shoving a tongue in his cheek. Alright then, but you will regret it. Thomas gave a feeble little thrust at Mulcahy, so that the man might have some time to get out of the way if he turned yellow from fear. But Thomas was surprised when Mulcahy's big hand, at lightning speed, zapped out and thwacked on the muzzle o the rifle, sending it spinning away along with Thomas.

"I said _stab _not tickle!" Mulcahy barked and Thomas cringed at the embarrassing laughter that rippled across the room in result to the sergeant's humiliating statement. Gritting his teeth and his mouth down turned into a grimace, Thomas Searles closed is eyes and gave Mulcahy a stronger thrust. He felt the rifle being hit away from him again as he spun around.

He opened one eye to see Mulcahy, eyes blazing, glaring at him."Come on! You prissy little school girl!" Humiliated, Thomas felt his face burn."You're the worst soldier in this whole company now hit me!"

Thomas' eyes blazed over, that was the _last straw_. He hated having people taunt him, hated having people laugh at him, hated that smirk stitched on Trip's long face. He gathered all of his anger and humiliation to produce a strong, secure thrust and lunge, gathering momentum before striking, not caring if he missed or not. Without skipping a beat, Thomas lunged with a war cry. His cry of bravery was change into one of pain as Mulcahy ripped the rifle out of his hands, stabbing Thomas in the gut with the butt of the gun, shoving the barrel into Thomas' jaw.

Thomas' vision was blurred, but he did not miss the sensation of falling, and within a few seconds, his back made contact with the floor, _hard_, crushing his skin. To make it worse, Thomas felt hot tears of pain and embarrassment rush down his cheeks. He opened his eyes slowly, whimpering, to find the barrel of the gun in his face, Mulcahy staring at him from behind it.

* * *

Robert was horrified. His eyes were wide and his mouth fell open, probably giving the illusion that he was an ignorant fool. He stared down at Thomas, then up at Mulcahy, his gaze jumping back and forth between them. One of his best friends had just been given a good beating, and Robert was not even allowed to show that he actually cared. He tried to at like it did not matter, and gratefully, no one noticed his little falling-apart moment. No one except Miss Janeiro, who's intense gaze locked on Robert that he had to struggle to avoid.

"No shame son, get up." Sergeant Mulcahy was saying softly to Thomas, pitying him. To Robert's horror his friend was actually in tears. Thomas whimpered in an attempt to get up, but apparently it hurt to move."I _said_get up!" Mulcahy shouted, all trace of pity erased from his tone. Robert wanted to tell him to stop, but that would show weakness in his leadeship abilities.

"Nigger forgot to duck, is all." A tall negro man in a top hat smirked at Thomas, sending his small circle of ignorant fools to laugh rudely.

Robert lurched forward, pointing at him. How dare he?"Sergeant!" Mulcahy immediately straightened, waiting for Robert's command."Deal with that man!"

* * *

That's gotta hurt. I winced myself as I saw Thomas go down from the rifle butt-kicking, feeling Forbes stiffen at my side. I glanced to get a look at Robert's face. His eyes were wide and his forehead scrunched in panic and horror. He looked like he was struggling not to rush over to help Thomas up as he lay in the straw, hot tears flowing from the tear ducts at his ebony eyes. It was so sad. I wanted to help him up too.

To top it off, Trip, even less maturer than myself, managed to joke about it. There was an amused gleam in his eyes as he taunted Thomas. Adding insult to injury. You should have seen the way Robert snapped into action, his eyes blazing with anger and offense. He ordered Mulcahy to go deal with it. Mulcahy looked like there was _nothing_ that could bring him more pleasure.

He must have thought I was Charlie, or the timid corporal next to me, for without a glance in at us, he all but tossed the rifle in our direction. I caught it as it leaned back towards me, and almost immediately when I touched it, both Charlie and the corporal, followed by Forbes, stepped back cautiously. I resisted shooting them a glare.

I watched as Mulcahy approached Trip, speaking in a low, hushed voice. I could not hear it well, but I made out a few words."Tell you...wee secret...mouth SHUT!" He shouted the last word, shoving Trip roughly down on the ground, who managed to catch himself before his face made contact with the frozen, straw covered dirt. Amazingly enough.

Trip grinned ferociously, like a hungry wolf, looking like he was about to strike Mulcahy. He was lucky that Rawlins caught him, forcing Trip to look at him."Save it, son. Save it." Wise advice, you the man.

Seemingly satisfied, Robert gave a feeble, after-shocked nod."Carry on, Sergeant Mulcahy." He turned to leave, Forbes blinking at him with a blank expression on his face. Robert gave him one look and Forbes twitched away.

* * *

Thomas dragged himself off the ground, his forehead throbbing. He had to speak with Robert, before the man left again. He was always disappearing. He needed to tell him about what he thought of this kind training. He wanted him to know that he felt it was inhumane, and that he had always thought that Robert would act the same as in the army as he acted before the war. Care-free.

"Robert. Robert!" He called, struggling to keep up and get his attention.

Robert turned slowly, his forehead wrinkled and his teeth working at his bottom lip.

"I'd like to speak with you in private." He gasped, his stomach hurt and it was hard to talk."If I may."

There was heavy sorrow in his eyes, as he labored to formulate audible words in his mouth, plugging them out slowly, one be one."Enlisted men," He paused to bite his lip again."Wishing to speak to their commanding officer, must first get permission."

Thomas felt as if Robert had just slapped him.

Robert leaned forward, his forehead wrinkled."Do you understand, _Private_?"

He accented the last word, so as to tell Thomas that he should know his place. Thomas swallowed hard, blinking back the tears, and sniffing through his blocked nose. He saluted vulnerably."Yes, sir."

Robert saluted back, he looked as ashamed as Thomas felt, spinning away from him and exiting the training yard. Thomas noticed Forbes watching him, an apology written both on his lips and in his eyes. Thomas exchanged a long, loaded, glance with his friend, until a loud bang of a single gun shot made them both jump.

* * *

Robert felt horrible. He wished things did not have to be this way. This was a god example of why he hated being in charge. Everything was always your fault, and no matter what you do something bad happens. Too choose the lesser of two evils was his job, but no matter which one he decided on it was still an evil. Not a good thing, and definitely not what Robert wanted. He _wanted_ with speak with Robert. He _wanted_to tell him he was sorry. But that was impossible. He was his commanding officer, and Thomas must know that they can not be friends in the army as they were before, in the golden days of their sunny childhood, when it never seemed to rain. Figuratively. He had to treat Thomas the same as with everyone, not give him special privileges. Robert jumped and his eyes widened at the shot of gunfire. He spun around quickly, slightly panicked.

* * *

I stared up at the big hole in the ceiling. Lets just say _two_ people left the training room crying that day.

* * *

**I'll get to the Christmas scene, I promise, even though I'm runnng late. :) I swear I watch this movie ever Saturday for story material, and sadly I never get bored of it. That's how good it is, lol. *I can't watch the end though, too sad.* Review please. :D You know the drill. ;) **


	27. Bad Mood

**Woohoo. Another chapter. I can barely keep my eyes open. Ahem. Anyway, on with the show... :)**

**BTW, glad that ya'll knew what I was getting at with the Spirit chapter. Hehe, I love the soundtrack. :)**

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**Jazmonster: **Haha, thanks so much. I'm so glad that you already have 3 chapters up, your story is so hilarious. ;)

**Anonymous:** I can't wait either. ;)

**BK Love-ah:** Don't fall off...lol...*cough* lame joke *cough* xD

**Otose:** In the movie when that happened, he told him to ask somebody before coming to see him because it was protocol back then...I believe it still is. ;)

**YaRisVamp:** Lol! Thanks so much, you make me feel funny, lol. "Stab! Not tickle!" Priceless.

**Samantha Story:** Thanks so much for the idea, lol, it will save me from writers block later on...

**Beagle Bug:** Lol, you know what they say "Ebay has it all." Good luck, I hope you find one.

**smartyjonescrzy:** I hope you find out! (That'd be so cool, wouldn't it?) I know my family came to the states in the mid 1870's and went on the Oregon Trail *descended the Sierras and into the promised land of California* been here ever since. :) Lol, I can't bring myself to the end because I get a sinking feeling in my gut and I start to cry...lol. I was just running out of ideas. And she shot Thomas's weapon, who is the 'underdog' in the movie and I just thought he would forget to clean his gun because he's very...very...Thomas. :) But I see what you're saying. ;p Thanks! (BTW, I read you GWTW fics [about Willy] and you're really good. Just a suggestion, but you should try a Glory fic, I think you'd do an awesome job!]

**Rainstar of LightningClan:** Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews! I love to read them, and no I don't think you're annoying, you brightened up my dull, rainy, review-less days by your reviewing and I like you quoteing *makes me feel funny* lol. Thanks so much, again!

**IceDragonHikari:** Thank you! The Grudge seems so familiar, I must have seen it before. Well, what genre do you want it to be? Horror? Angst? Romance? :)

* * *

I felt my mouth drop open in shock, but I couldn't have closed it if I wanted to. I was paralyzed for a moment, staring up at the sunlight that streamed in through that hole and onto my stupefied expression. Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the training-room, not a creature was stirring, not even a Trip. Nah, it just doesn't work. I can't breathe. I can't think, (which is obvious enough without saying so.)

I was mortified, as I struggled to avert my gaze from the small, ugly gap in the straw-and-wood ceiling. I turned warily, biting my lip to see how much damage I had done to the people. Almost everyone's face was red from suppressed laughter, except for Mulcahy's, who's green eyes were wide and jumping back and forth between the rifle, (which lay discarded on the floor after I dropped it with a yelp), and the perplexed Thomas with a dazed expression painted on his face.

I saved the worst for last. I turned my head slowly, my eyes were closed..._I think_, to look at Robert. Yes, they were closed, I remember not being able to see him and having to open them. I peered at him through my half-opened eyelids. He stared right back. Several yards away from me, Robert appeared to be scrutinizing my every move, as if I was some sort of alien freak. His face was smooth, and his usually expressive brown eyes were blank.

Oh _no_. Evidently he appeared to be thinking. _Never _a good sign. His tongue now jammed into the side of his cheek, and his rapid blinking irregularly abnormal. Oooh, _big_ words, Alex. I felt like choking. No! I wanted to shout. It's not my fault! That's not my gun! It's not my job to clean it! But from weeks of hanging out with Robert, I knew he didn't believe in shifting-blame in the army.

I felt _awful _for my problem-causing self, and horrible on Thomas' behalf, too. His face turned sidewalk grey as he stared at me, bewildered, blinking repeatedly as he shifted his gaze from me to the gun. It must have have been terrible for him, after being so cruelly 'punished' by Mulcahy, and now _this_: forgetting to clean out your weapon. Wasn't that a major offense here?

There was a boisterous laugh, and by the volume and crudity of it, it obviously belonged to Trip."She shoot worse than you, Snowflake."

Both Thomas and I turned red as turbulent laughter from the small immature group of the regiment, mostly Trip's lackeys, erupted in ugly ashes around us. I felt my ears turn red too, feeling a body-blush coming on, my face hot like fever. Thomas was staring at the ground, his face was contorted and split into two emotions, one was humiliation, the other was anger. He looked like he was ready to punch Trip in his pretty face.

I turned my blurry vision to Robert, who looked even more annoyed."Sergeant, deal with that man..._again_."

I didn't see what Mulcahy did to Trip this time, only hearing the loud thump as his body hit the ground. I had to get out of here. I felt like falling apart. To my horror, I was beginning to cry, for the second time since I been here. Ths was so humiliating, with all those people laughing at me, just like in highschool. It didn't help that Robert was staring at me like I was some sort of screwed up science experiment. I wasn't brave enough to just face the problem, I just felt like being a cry baby.

I speed-walked past Robert, who had a twisted, recoiled expression on his face. I heard him call my name softly."Miss Janeiro." But I refused to listen to another lecture from him.

* * *

Robert felt terrible. He understood it was an accident. He knew that very well, even though he would still have to tell Charlie to lecture Thomas about checking his rifle. Did the man not realize how dangerous it could be? How lucky they were that Miss Janeiro shot the roof and not a man? Or what if he accidentally jerked the trigger and it erupted right into Mulcahy's chest when he was showing him how to stab?

Robert sighed and shook his head; as poor Miss Janeiro, to his horror, fled past him tying to hide her tears."Miss Janeiro!" He called her name softly, not sure what he planned on saying. He was grateful that she ignored him, saving him from making a fool out of himself. He was sure that she had heard him, since she acknowledged him with her violet eyes, locking on his own for a moment, without so much as a pause in her step as she rushed outside into the winter air.

The laughter had died down, and the men had forgotten about the incident as the sergeant continued to yell obscenities at them. Frankly, Robert was grateful to have him. The young colonel stared at the open front of the poor-excuse-for-a-building where Miss Janeiro had disappeared. He was only vaguely aware of Forbes excusing himself and strolling outside, moving his head right and left in search of her.

* * *

Tears were streaming down my face faster now that I was free from the accusing eyes of 'A' Company, away from the harsh laughter of all those emotionless _men_, black and white included. I dragged a sleeve over my wet nose, snorting it back, feeling like my dad's sister, who was an avid feminist strongly believing that all men are idiots, (and that my father was their king.)

I wasn't sure where I was going, my feet seemed to be disconnected from my brain, parading aimlessly about the large, filthy campgrounds. That was why I was so open-mouthed when the horse stables came into view. I frowned, plugging my nose as a reflex. Why in the world did I come here? What was so special about this...this _horse barn_? It smelled like crap, it was covered in crap, and it was producing _more_ crap. Besides, I'm scared of horses, they're too big and and they make me feel vulnerable.

I guess because the stables had living, breathing creatures there; and it's always better when you're with someone instead of alone. After all, misery loves company. I shuffled inside. It was warmer here, most of the wind was blocked by the gap-filled walls, whistling as it poured through the cracks in the wood. There were also two small fires at each end that were hot enough for me to feel the heat burning several feet away, as they crackled in large metal buckets.

I nodded at one of the enlisted stable-hands, giving him a feeble smile before embarrassingly looking away to hide my tear-streaked face. I made my way to the only horse here that I was starting to warm up to, the blood-brown, strong and proud Glory. He snorted appreciatively as I went to stand in front of his stable gate, using one hand to pat him on his big, wet muzzle; the other hand wiping away a tear.

"Alex, please don't tell me you're crying." A highly recognizable deep voice begged behind me.

I turned around, pulling a sleeve across my face again, brushing the stray tears from my eyes."What, you have a problem with that too?"

Forbes's expression was twisted. Both pity and amusement."Alex, you're being pathetic." He replied, not unkindly.

I agree."Did you _see_? Did you see everybody laughing at me?"

Forbes shrugged casually."So? Everyone laughed at Thomas, also. People laugh at me for being in a negro regiment all the time. Why does it bother you so much?"

It was my turn to shrug."I don't know, maybe because these things always happen to _me_ and I'm _tired_ of it!"

"Charlie and I told you before, these things happen to everybody." He repeated, folding his arms over his chest.

"Oh yeah? Have you met someone like me before?" I snapped. Geez Alex, get a grip."It's a curse that stalks me wherever I go."

Forbes remained silent.

"See!" I pointed at him, albeit triumphantly."I'm a horrible, ugly idiot and nobody likes me." Ugh! Mood swings. I frowned, speaking of mood swings, my...ahem...should be any day now.

Forbes looked surprised, pushing himself off of the wall."Stop being ridiculous Alex, you're _not_ ugly."

I frowned, looking up at him, confused.

Forbes grinned at me. "You're what most would call attractive."

I snorted."Right."

He flashed me a look of mock disgust."Well not right now." He grinned."Since you've been crying, you look like the very devil."

Love you too, Forbes.

I sent him a red-faced glare.

Forbes sighed, digging through the pocket of his woolen navy coat, uncovering a smooth white handkerchief."Here."

"Thanks." I accepted it and blew generously.

"I'm serious, Alex." He continued, shoving his hands into his pockets."On a good day you might turn a few heads, on a bad one...a few stomachs."

I crumpled the soiled handkerchief and threw it at him.

He caught it, laughing like a bloody hyena."But that's not all, is it?"

I threw my nose in the air."I don't know what you're talking about."

Forbes smirked, glancing at Robert's horse."I think you do."

* * *

After standard dinnertime, Robert found himself pacing across the wooden planks of his cramped quarters. He didn't eat yet, for he still had that ridiculous high-ranking officers Christmas dinner he was forced to go to: something he was not looking forward to at all. Robert could not believe it was Christmas Eve. It was so strange, how fast time flies. Robert fingered the small red ribbon box in his coat pocket. He paced and bit his lip; he bit his lip and he paced some more. What was he supposed to do about it? Maybe he should just send it to Susannah, wish her a Merry Christmas, and forget about it.

The only problem was that Susannah would see right through him, send it back and demand that he give it to Miss Janeiro or she would come down and give it to her herself. Robert rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Susannah saw everything through rose colored glasses, and frankly it was annoying. He could not even _greet_ a woman without Susannah pouncing on him and accusing him of being in love. As she hinted, obnoxiously, in one of her letters to him: _How are you and Alex getting along?_ Then she had the _nerve_ to quote Shakespeare: _Robert, Robert, where art thou? Robert?_

Robert made a high, irritated sound in the back of his throat. He pulled the small red box out of his jacket and pulled the tiny lid off. The midnight blue silk ribbon was packed in long coils, like a taut snake ready to strike. (Though Robert would gladly face a snake instead of Miss Janeiro at the moment.) Candlelight shined off of the glossy ribbon, and it mocked him. A tiny crystal-glass pendent was attached to one of the ends, so when tied into some complicated knot or girlish braid that Robert could not even begin to fathom, the pendant would land in the exact middle. (As Susannah had once explained to him.)

Miss Janeiro was not like other girls. Frail, shy, and dainty. She was loud, swore, stubborn, clumsy, and opinionated. Considered a 'failure' in the world of marriage. The only other women he knew that had that much to say were his mother and his stubborn sister Susannah. The SSS as he and Thomas used to joke about behind her back when they were irresponsible preteens.

He could always lie. Make something up. Robert made his expression dismissive and serious, as he stared at his reflection in the man-size looking glass."Miss Janeiro, please get rid of this." Then maybe 'fling' it at her. But what if she did throw it away instead of keep it?

New plan.

He practiced in front of the mirror again as he changed out of his soiled, mud-caked uniform. He was nervous, but this time, his method was casual."Miss Janeiro, I found this at the bottom of my desk drawer and you may keep it if you like."

Someone snorted behind him."Is that the best you've got, Robert?"

Robert jumped, blinking hard as if awakening from a trance. He was so absorbed in his monologue that he did not notice Forbes come to stand quietly in the doorway. Forbes was leaning against the door frame, a bottle from his life-time supply of rum in his hand, eyebrows raised in amusement and bright smirk displayed across his mouth like a bloody light show.

Robert frowned, wanting badly to wipe it off. His face was hot and he welt waves of mortification rush over him."Y-yes, Major Forbes?"

Forbes laughed loudly through his nose."Honestly, Robert."

Annoyed, the young colonel swore under his breath, turning away from his vile friend to pull the straps of his black suspenders over the shoulders of his clean white shirt."You are impossible, Major."

Forbes appeared to be choking from laughter."You fancy her, don't you?"

What did he mean 'fancy'? What were they reckless fifteen-year-olds playing some ridiculous game? Robert refused to look at him, red-faced."Not now, Cabot." He replied grimly, tying the laces of his new, clean, shiny boot.

Forbes was doubled over, plopping himself down on Robert's cot. He had tears in his eyes and his voice was high from the irritating laughter that escaped his lips."I think you do."

Agitated, Robert yanked the bottle out Forbes's hands, discarding it on his desk."Not another word from you, Major, I mean it." He retorted.

Robert was pleasantly surprised by the silence from Forbes, who sat across from him. But Forbes was still smirking, and Rob could feel the unspoken words in the air, and he scowled at him."Stop it."

Forbes's smirked erupted into a grin."I did not say anything."

"You were thinking, it's annoying." Robert retorted, turning away from the chuckling Forbes to search for his other boot.

Robert could not afford to act this way and pursue a relationship with anyone during this perioud of his life. _Especially_ not with his camp aid. He was in the army for heaven's sake! Robert was ashamed for being so ridiculous in the first place, but it was hard to resist...

* * *

**Okay, this chapter might have been a little OOC and kinda cry-baby-ish but my brain is having 'technical difficulties' and I seriously don't know what I'm doing. :)**

**I PROMISE net up is the Christmas chapter, I know I know, I'm annoying, but bear with me. :)**

**Happy New Years!**


	28. Silent Night

**Happy New Year!**

* * *

**Otose: Ima go read yours now. :D**

**SondraStar: Haha, thanks so much, I'm glad people read it. :)  
**

**Jazmonsterr: Lol, Alex and PMS should be an interesting mix. :) Yay! Can't wait for cahpter 4!**

**Anonymous: Haha, thanks!**

**smartyjonescrzy: Proposing via letter? Are you kidding me? That's like breaking up over the phone. :) I so can't wait to read Where There's Will. It's gonna be good. :) *Too bad there aren't alot of Will fanfics out there, I really liked the guy.) :)**

**IceDragonHikari: Soon enough? :D Eh? Ed? ;)**

**Beagle Bug: Haha, Forbes does seem like a matchmaker, don't he? ;D**

**BK Love-ah: Ooh, the pressure. Lol, jk. I'm scared it won't be good enough. :)**

**Samantha Story: Haha, glad somebody liked that part, lol.**

* * *

Shiloh was meek. Shiloh was small. Shiloh was mute. Shiloh was alone as he sat in the tent practicing his drumming, frustrated that he could never hit precisely at the right beat. He had left dinner early, giving the left-overs of his food to Jupiter, so he would have some time with the tent all to himself to practice a little. He wanted his drumming to be perfect, better than the other boys, because he knew that the colonel wanted things done the _right_ way.

Shiloh liked the colonel. He wasn't old like the scary Union officers that dragged him off of a field in Kansas, taking him and his mother up North to Massa-chew-set. He was young, and he was brave, and Shiloh wanted to be just like him when he grew up. He wanted to be strong and courageous too, fighting off his enemies, making them quiver with fear at the sound of his name. Shiloh!

He was glad that he joined the army. Things were fun here. Sure, they were tough and hard, but they were fun. It was better than picking yellow corn in the middle of Kansas, and having your foreman order you to do it faster or speeding you up by threatening to sell you South. His mother was the one who told him to join, saying they needed the money.

Shiloh knew that well. Though he could not ever make anyone understand, he knew that _very_ well. He used his drumsticks to beat his anger into the drum. His anger at being mute. It was so hard, not being able to explain to people what you were trying to be talking about. Having them stare at you like you're some kind of freak. His skin color did nothing to help him out either. But _nobody_ understood it better than he did.

His lack of voice was nothing dramatic. Shiloh was just born that way. His mother always used to say,"Shiloh, God gave you two helpings of sense, but not a single helping of mouth." It made Shiloh smile, for he _indeed_ was a clever boy. That was another reason why he would make an excellent officer, like Colonel Shaw, for he would have the best attack strategies in the whole wide world. He would be invincible.

He was still drumming when his exhausted tent-mates came shuffling in."Oh my, my." Jupiter was stuttering again, he grunted."Somethings never change." He spoke bitterly."I guess the whole world hate the nigger." Shiloh wondered what happened to make him think this way.

Trip, the only one he feared in the entire camp, turned sharply to face him."Boy, if you don't quit that drumming in here-"

He didn't finish his threat, leaving it incomplete in the air, as Shiloh ceased to drum almost immediately. The old man, Rawlins was crawling in next."Honey." He was the only one who called him Honey, for no one knew his real name. He cocked his head at the old man."Why don't you take your drum outside and practice?" It wasn't a suggestion, it was a kindly stated order. Rawlins collapsed on his thin mattress of blankets.

Shiloh did not leave for another minute, listening to their conversation. Jupiter's stuttering continued."T-that C-colonel Shaw, he a hard man." He gestured with his fist. Shiloh did not agree with him.

"He a swell." Trip retorted with a grunt, looking like every muscle in his body was sore."Just a nigger-beatin' swell." Shiloh felt the urge to defend the young colonel, but he couldn't even if his life depended on it. It was at times like this, he hated being mute the most.

Jupiter propped himself up on his elbows."B-but he in the same boat with us." He stated, sure of himself."Secess come, take him, kill him too."

Shiloh silently cheered him on.

Trip only snorted. Shiloh wondered how somebody could be so bitter."Not him." Trip winced as he undid his laces."He a swell."

"He's just a boy." Rawlins dismissed the topic, as if the colonel was too young to think with his head, and it was acceptable the way he acted for someone his age.

"Yeah." Trip smirked, flinching as he slid his poor excuse fof a shoe off of his tattered foot. His foot worse off than the shoe that was a few sizes to small. Both Shiloh and Jupiter gasped audibly."He a weak, _white_ boy. Beatin' on a nigger make him feel strong."

Shiloh winced harder, he didn't want to hear anymore garbage about his hero. He crawled out of the tent as Thomas stumbled in."Ain't that right, Snowflake?" He heard Trip vex the exhausted man.

* * *

Thomas trudged alone through the snow, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He was exhausted, and his spirits were extremely low. He had just had a long, harsh, 'chat' with Captain Morse, about not cleaning out his weapon. Thomas felt like a fool for forgetting to do something so simple and obvious. But Charlie was right, the girl could have killed someone, or herself. Thomas looked up at the sky, his face scrunching up and recoiling at the icy snowflakes that melted on his heated face. Generally, Thomas appreciated snow, but today it burned, and it was not welcome.

Thomas pulled the flap of his tent open, climbing in. Trip's face broke out into a smirk when he saw him stumble in, the little drummer boy snaking aorund him and outside."Ain't that right, Snowflake?"

Thomas had no idea what he was talking about, and frankly, he didn't give a squat. He collapsed on his blankets, hurting his back form the hard ground beneath it. Though he was not present since the beginning of the conversation, Thomas was no fool, and it didn't take him long to catch on the topic, to his dismay, that he wanted more than anything to avoid.

"He ain't been to no Westpoint." Trip was saying, _spitting_ it out actually.

_That's right, he went to Harvard._

Trip continued."And the onliest reason he in charge, is 'cause his mommy and daddy fixed it for him, ain't that so?" Trip leaned forward, eagerly waiting to see what damage he had done to Thomas.

Thomas was so repulsed by the world, he didn't want to see it. He covered his face with his brown hat hat."Ooooooh." He heard Trip mock his attitude.

"You thought he was different." He whispered, yanking Thomas's hat off of his face, much to his disappointment. Can't he get a hint? Can't he see that he doesn't feel like talking about it? "You just thought you was so smart, didn't ya?"

Trip dropped the hat back over his face with a plop."Well you is in real school now."

He turned away, his attention back to his mangled feet."Yep, he sure enough learnin' now."

* * *

I trudged slowly though the campsite, all alone, staring at the sky that had finally released its snow on Christmas Eve. Small fires were set up in front of tents of the loud, celebrating soldiers, playing Christmas songs, (even some that I recognized) on old, beautiful, harmonicas. I noticed that if you looked hard enough to your right, and I mean _hard_, like squinting and everything, you could make out the outline and fire-lights of Boston, a few shot miles away from Camp Readville.

I loved this time of year, and the cold I did not mind, marvelling at the snow. You see, my parents were divorced, dad in Massachusetts, mom in L.A. I stay with her in the winter instead of Boston, so I didn't get to see much snow in sunny, warm California, except the X-treme snowboarding races that everybody watched on TV. But the real thing was _so_ much better than television.

I strolled casaully between the tents, nodding and smiling at some of the nice guys, who didn't care if I was girl, or a boy, or probably even a leper. I liked people like that, though they were hard to find, especially in this era. I silenced my footsteps, trying to avoid stepping on crunchy snow when I neared Trip's tent. But my effort soon dispersed when I noticed a little boy, maybe about twelve years old, sitting alone in the snow, thumping away at his painted drum.

I sat down next to him, startling the poor kid."Hi." I smiled.

He didn't say anything, only blinked.

I tried again."Merry Christmas."

He looked at me like I was insane.

Alright then."Hey kid." I kept my smile on."What? Can't you talk?" I teased.

He looked apologetic, and pointed to his mouth, then shrugged. "Oh, I get it, you're mute." I replied sadly, he nodded excitedly, as if grateful that I finally got it. Honestly, I can be so slow sometimes. Excuse me kid while I take my foot out of my mouth. I felt so bad, wincing as I looked at him. But amazingly, he didn't seem to mind, only continued rumbling away on the hollow hide with his long, wooden drumsticks.

"I'm Alex." I introduced myself, sheepishly.

He took a drum stick and outlined his name in the dirt. I read his difficult scrawl."Shiloh." I smiled."What a pretty name."

He pointed to his hands again, and shook his heads. I understood that he probably only knew how to write his name, and otherwise was completely illiterate. It's so hard to imagine a world where people can't read or write. How horrible life sounds, when you think about it, seeing markings instead of letters, especially when you're mute, and can't write. Very sad. And very difficult.

I sat next to him for a while, listening to his rhythmic beating. I had a feeling that if the kid went on America's Got Talent, Simon would like him.

* * *

Robert strolled slowly through the snow, saluting at the soldiers whom he envied very much. They were so different from his own people, and after pondering, Robert realized they were more free than he was. They were free to tell each other what they wanted, act like they wanted, and joke and laugh loudly in public. In his society, on the other hand, this type of person would have a ruined reputation, and not be accepted in any decent family.

But Robert found himself feeling enchanted as he watched them celebrating this night before Christmas. He pondered about the letter he had recently sent to his mother, going over it in his head:

Dear Mother,

News today of the defeat at Fredricksburg. If things continue to go badly, I wonder if I might not end my days as an outlaw leader of a band of fugitive slaves. Try as I may, I don't know these men. They're music, they're camaraderie, which is different from ours. I am placed in a position, where if I were a man of real strength, I might do a great deal. But I am afraid that I am not of much account. I don't want to stand in there way because of my own weakness...

Robert threw out his lit cigar, which he rarely smoked, only when something troubling was on his mind.

"I miss Christmas on the Shaw Island." He told the air, lost in his own thoughts."The smell of the sea."

* * *

I watched him silently as I walked alone, also, just happening to fall across his path. I listened to someone play Silent Night, or at least attempt to, on a rusty harmonica. The melody still came out loud and clear. It was beautiful. Just like _he_ was. Something about him, it was so very..._captivating_. The way he worried over his regiment. How wise he looked, much beyond his years. How he thought of himself _last_.

He looked like he was deep in thought, his forehead wrinkled, and his mouth taking drags out of a cigar, which he later scowled at and stomped out."I miss Christmas on the Shaw Island." He started to murmur to himself."The smell of the sea."

I had to say something, something strong was lurring me toward him, like in those stupid Stephanie Meyers books. I took a step forward."Merry Christmas." I blurted awkwardly.

He spun around, surprised to see me there."Miss Janeiro." He questioned, as if in disbelief.

I nodded."Hi."

He gave me a soft smile that made me melt like the snowflakes on my face."Merry Christmas, Miss Janeiro."

He looked like he was debating about something with himself. I guess I'll leave him to it. I turned to leave, but he called me back."Wait! Miss Janeiro."

I faced him slowly, curious."Yes, sir?"

His gloved hand dove int his pocket, and produced a small red box. "This is for you." He replied simply, casually.

I swear I fell on the ground. He rushed over to me."Are you alright?" Alex is dizzy, her brain has deserted her for a moment, please leave a message.

"I'm f-fine." I mumbled. He put the tiny box in my palm, and helped me up.

That same feeling electrocuted my body, just like it did the last time he helped me up, after chopping down his watermelons. He looked awkwardly from me to the box. Oh, right. I tore the lid off, like a little kid on Christmas day. I gasped as I pulled out the tiny present. It was a much-needed ribbon for my crazy hair, and it was so beautiful. I preferred to think that he was being thoughtful and noticed my falling hair, instead of just getting it as a lucky guess.

It was midnight blue, shiny and glossy, with a crystal rose pendant attached to one of the ends. I tied my hair up immediately, feeling the delicate pendant land in the exact middle. It was beautiful. I glanced at Robert, who stood there, nervously wringing his hands."It's beautiful, sir. Thank you, so, so much."

"You like it?" He bit his lip.

I smiled at him."I love it." I couldn't believe it!

Next I did something totally horrible. But Robert deserved it. I approached him, wrapping both of my arms around his waist in one big hug.

* * *

**Oh boy, Alex, oh boy! How will young RGS react? Eh? It's six am California time, and I'm dieing. Sleep deprivation may have mady the Christmas scene...lousy. :) Lemme know.**

**Happy 2011!**

**May you all trip, fall, and cry a lot this year.**

**Trip over money.**

**Fall in love.**

**Cry from happiness. **

**:D**

**Xoxo, yours truly.**


	29. The Ugly Truth

**Hello everybody, sorry to keep you waiting, school is making me suffer. Spent all day every day studying for Trig test, and they put me in PreCalculus for next semester! I is so tired. Aargh! This is how I feel about math: *gun to head...click* Or should I say: aim, fire? ;)**

**Anyway...enjoy.**

**

* * *

**

**Anonymous**:*Pumps fist in air.* Thank you! XD XD

**BK Love-ah**: Lol, I wrote it and I can't believe it either. ;D

**Jazmonsterr**: Thanks, I'm glad you think it's cute. Good luck with Glory.

**smartyjonescrzy**: Oh yeah, smarty, rub it in. Makeus junior's suffer. ;) Lol, lucky senior. Haha, yeah, I admit Stephanie Meyers has potential, but if only she'd actually use it. :)

**High Queen Crystal**: Lol, yeah, Trip is horrible, he's always trying to prove something to somebody.

**Otose**: Haha, I have Spanish IIII next semester, deep breaths, it's gonna be hard.

**Beagle Bug**: Lol, after you said that I had a dream about Shiloh the beagle, it was...weird. ROFL. ;D

**IceDragon Hikari: **Haha, thanks, they didn't I made it up. :)

**Hannah**: Thank you thank you thank you! :)

**dress4m**: I know, I hate the end, it's so sad. ;( sniff sniff

**MaryFairy**: Thanks so much, glad you enjoy it.

**KiaraShaw**: Thanks Kiara, that really made my day. :) Lol, yeah, I noticed the Shaw. ;D Good one.

* * *

I could not believe I done it. I didn't know that I possessed such 'guts' deep down inside of me. It was at the spur of the moment, more like a reflex than a reaction. My arms circled his jacketed waist and I forgot about everything. The world ceased to spin. The deep, cheerful voices of the carolling men were drowned out by the sound of Robert's heart beat. The stars in the inky black sky seemed bigger, sparkling like diamonds that beckoned to be pulled down to earth. They were magnified, as more and more seemed to appear, like someone spilled a multitude countless, silver glitter on a black sheet of construction paper.

Robert's arms wrapped securely around me, and my breath caught in my throat."Miss Janeiro?" He whispers, his voice like a thousand violins.

"Yes?" I say coolly, like these kind of perfect moments happen to me all the time.

He inclines his head towards my face."There is something I've been meaning to tell you for a long time now."

I flutter my eyelashes at him."What might that be?"

"I'm in love with you." He says casually, but nevertheless romantically.

And then our lips meet.

* * *

Right.

If you believed that, you obviously don't know me too well. I'm hurt. Now I'm not arguing that I didn't _want_ that to happen. Kissing Robert would have been nice, but I cannot escape the ugly truth; and let me tell you, it was _ugly_. It was another one of those moments where I felt like I could kill Marty and Doc for a ride in their time-travelin' DeLorean. Lets extract the fact from the fiction, shall we?

Fact. It was true that the 'stars sparkled in the night sky' and that it seemed that they were bigger and brighter and closer to earth, but that's only because the 1800's didn't have bright fluorescent city lights to block the multitude of them out.

Fact. It was true that Robert's arms wrapped securely around me, but only to pry myself off of him.

Fact. My breath _did_ catch in my throat, but only because I can't breathe when I'm scared. Especially when scared of Robert, because usually when people loose control, they start jumping and screaming and hollering all over the place, but with Robert, he grew very very quiet, and his voice sounded like it came from a dead man's throat, and his eyes turned to fire. Not that he lost control, he just looked a little...panicked.

Fiction. Robert's voice did not sound like a thousand violins, it sounded like, well, Robert.

Fiction. I did not sound cool, I sounded hollow, kind of like the alien from The Fourth Kind.

Fact: I _had_ fluttered my eyelashes at him, but only because a snow flake got into my eyes and I was trying to get rid of it.

And the rest is history, which will hopefully be soon forgotten and lost like most ancient history is. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...the ugly truth.

* * *

My heart was thumping so loudly in a cliched way, that I was afraid that he would hear it. Now I'm not going to lie, it felt tingly all over, not knowing why I can't let go. I was only hanging on him for two seconds, when I felt his hands on my forearms, gently ripping myself away from his body, like a soiled band-aid. I forced myself to look at him, blinking slowly. For a moment, I thought he was going to yell at me, but when I looked closely, I realized that the normally 'together' Robert had his panicked eyes darting frantically in every direction, as if his main goal in life was to avoid mine.

Awkward.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, until Robert cleared his throat, his face taking on a slightly pinkish hue, coughing awkwardly into his balled fists. I winced, taking a step back, refusing to look at him until he said my name."Miss Janeiro?"

I can feel the tips of my ears turning bright red."Yes?" I whisper meekly, my voice coming out in a hollow, struck chord.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you." I could hear the smile in his voice, but he cleared it away with another cough.

"Yes?" I said softly, preparing myself for the sting of his dismissive rejection.

I forced my eye to his face at. He stared back at me for a long time, finally clearing his words with a brisk shake of his head."Never mind." He murmured, side-stepping me."If you would excuse me, please."

I frowned, a little confused, watching him leave.

What was that all about? It wasn't what I expected.

* * *

Robert pushed past the confused Miss Janeiro, trying not to think about her by focusing on the noisy crunch of the snow under his boot-steps. Robert felt a little guilty for leaving poor Miss Janeiro without an explanation. He was about to reprimand her for fraternizing, that their relationship should be strictly formal. But the look in her pretty blue eyes, he just didn't have the heart. Besides, he started it by buying that silly ribbon. It was a pathetic excuse for their actions, and knew it. He sighed, annoyed with himself.

Robert knew this was wrong, and he was mad at himself for it. He knew it was a terrible mistake to give Miss Janeiro the ribbon. He knew it was terrible to leave her there in the snow, confused and without an explanation as he all but ran away from her. He knew it was wrong for an aide to embrace her superior officer.

He also knew that it was wrong for that superior officer, though however slightly, to appreciate it.

* * *

Trip winced, gingerly sliding a ripping, pathetic excuse for a shoe off of his gnarled foot."Oh, shit." He muttered, not missing Jupiter's audible wince as he stared at his blistered foot with a pained expression. That was good. It meant that Trip had his attention already, without even asking for it. So far, his 'little' plan was working.

"Man say there's a farm ain't but two-three miles from here." Trip speaks slowly, nonchalantly, as if it was some gossip tidbit he picked up that was probably not true."Said the lady over there gave him some biscuits and gravy." Trip's eyes flicker to Jupiter's twisted, bemused face. He turns his head and hushes his voice as the night team drills past their tent."She said if he bring his friends, she feed them too."

Jupiter sits up in bed, propping himself up by the elbow, scowling at his empty stomach. Trip allows himself a sly grin, he had him now. Unfortunately, the old grave-digger steals the stuttering field hand's attention, though his words are directed at Trip."Don't even think about it."

Trip grits his teeth as he watches Jupiter glance back at Rawlins, but his grin remains displayed across his broad lips, undimmed."What you say, buck?" Trip beckons, trying not to put out Jupiter's small glimmer of interest."Biscuits and gravy sound good to me." He gestures at the torn-up 'sacks of leather' he found on some dump in Boston."Maybe get myself some real shoes."

The grave digger speaks, warning him calmly."I'm telling you, boy. They find out, they liable to shoot you."

Trip's black eyes flickered in annoyance."Nigger, is you an old man or is you an old woman? I forgets." He snapped, propelling his full-out edginess into his voice. He had almost had the field-hand, hook, line, and sinker, but the grave-digger fazed him away.

Rawlins frowned at him disapprovingly, only to shrug in surrender."All right." He muttered, turning on his side on the scratchy blankets, facing away form the rebellious Trip.

Jupiter looks doubtful, and Trip realizes that he is still hanging on a feeble thread, and he will try to persuade him back on to the hook. Grinning, Trip leans his face closer."Collard greens." He whispers the delicacy."Cornbread."

But it's too late, Jupiter scratches his head and quickly shakes a 'no', sliding away from him under his blankets. Trip shoves his tongue into his cheek, annoyed at the nigger. He turns to crawl back into his own bed."C'mon, dream. Ima waitin' on you." He crawls into his bed, pulling the scratchy brown blanket over his body, noticing Thomas asleep with the hat still on his head. He's tempted to flick it off of the house-nigger's face in a violent gesture, but is too tired to reach.

In truth, Trip just didn't want to go alone. It wasn't that he was scared, he just didn't want to do it. He was disgusted with those niggers being chicken. Especially that field hand. Be a man. Even though on the outside he was as black as the Mississippi mud, inside he was yellow. As Trip adjusted his pillow, a scratchy bundle of a torn coat under his head, he thought about the shoes that he was so desperate for. Every time he took another step, his feet felt like they were on fire. It was painful, and it ripped as if his skin was being torn apart. Trip was brave, but he couldn't take it anymore, and drilling just made it that much worse.

He knew he'd just have to go alone.

* * *

There was always something magical about Christmas, the way the snowflakes whirled around in the icy air, circling around him. The way everyone seemed happy, singing Christmas songs. The way families gathered around the fire by the Christmas tree, reading Charles Dickens. The way he had a tiny spring in his step despite his heavy homesickness. The way his camp aide...

It annoyed Robert that no matter what he did, his thoughts drifted back to _her_, as if they had only path, road, direction, destination. Instead, Robert decided to go over his letter to his mother, the way he always did before mailing it to her, to make sure that he had left nothing out, or did not put too much information that might vex her. He pulled it out of his deep pocket, folded in thirds and hardly wrinkled.

Dear Mother,

News today of the defeat at Fredericksburg. If things continue to go badly, I wonder if I might not end my days as an outlaw leader of a band of fugitive slaves. Try as I may, I don't know these men...their music, their camaraderie-which is different from ours. I am placed in a position where...if I were a man of _real_ strength, I might do a great deal. But I am afraid I shall show that I am not of much account. I don't want to stand in their way because of my own weakness. I miss Christmas on the Shaw Island, the smell of the sea...

Robert trailed off, staring at the moonless sky, folding the letter back into his pocket before it got soaked with intricately-carved snowflakes. It was true of the defeat, when the mail was delivered this morning, Robert found himself reading _Harper's Weekly_ over Forbes's shoulder during their morning coffee, not the exactly the most cheerful tidings to receive on Christmas Eve.

It also didn't help Robert how he could not 'click' with the men. He had heard grand stories from his grandfather, whom he was named after, about great leaders in the Revolution who fought bravely and earned the respect of their men. Such as George Washington, whom Robert very much admired. Not only a great man, but a great _leader_.

He wished he could be that way to his troops, not just an illusion, but-"Robert!"

Ripped from his thoughts, Robert turned around slowly, pursing his lips in bemusement, to find a shivering Thomas wrapped in a thin, woolen blanket.

* * *

When Thomas was sure that his tent-mates were asleep, judging by their calm, regulated breathing, in some cases _snoring_, he propped himself up, bundling his blanket into a fat brown wad in his genlte, soft fist. He gently stepped over Trip's dropping form, dragging a sleeve over his nose as he stepped outside. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew that he needed a walk.

Life is strange, Thomas pondered, strolling slowly in between the tents. When he was a small child playing catch with Robert and Forbes, he never would have guessed that there would even _be_ a war, let alone he would wind up in the middle of it. He cocked his head and stared up at the sky. There were stars, but no moon. He frowned, how strange, only to realize that it was being blocked by a thick glob of glowing grey clouds.

Thomas reminisced back when war was a distant rumor in faraway lands. He took a turn around a khaki tent only to find himself several yards apart with none other than Robert. He looked lost, deep in thought, just like himself. Maybe they can think together, after all, two heads is always better than one. His mouth made noises, forming words before he could stop it."Robert!" He called, not realizing what for.

Robert turned sharply, his brow furrowed in confusion, wondering who called his name. Thomas stepped out of the shadows."It's me, Thomas."

Robert blinked away snowflakes, and Thomas noted a hint of a smile touch his lips."I just wanted to say-" Thomas looks away, struggling for words. He looks back at the waiting Robert, his eyes telling him to just say what he needed to say."I just wanted to say..." Thomas chuckles, what did he want to say? He noticed Robert opening and closing his mouth, as if he too did not know what to say. He ran his tongue over his ivory teeth."Merry Christmas, Robert."

Robert grins softly, nodding gently at him."Merry Christmas, Thomas."

Thomas nods, biting his lips, hurriedly walking away from his friend. He feels Robert's stare on his back, and then the sound his crunching boots as he walks away in the opposite direction. Their short, tiny encounter maked Thomas feel a tad bit better, giving him a little hope that underneath that rough exterior, is still just the same old Robert.

**Yay! I guess... :D R and R, you know the drill. :D**


	30. Lonely Hearts

**Gah, I'm not proud of this at all, this was just me being random. I tried fitting it all in one chapter, but I just can't write anymore. I'll do the rest in the next chapter, at least it will be one more chapter than longer. (I'm aiming for 54. Get it? Or is it too long?)**

**Math and Spanish are driving me crazy with homework, and give me nada time to write. Review please. :) And once again, thank you for reviewing, you guys are fabulous! :)**

* * *

**Anonymous: **Alex surprised me, when I was writing this. ;)

**Beagle Bug: **Oh I totally have an idea for Alex during the battle, I think you'll like it. :)

**Otose: **Haha, guys are so confusing, eh? ;D

**BK Love-ah: **I totally agree, and I wonder how he would have reacted in real life.

**Jazmonsterr: **Thank you, lol, it did. I can't wait for your update. :)

**AlexShaw101037: **Aww thanks, and thanks so much for reviewing A Year Without Rain, it meant a lot, and yes that was a very heart-stopping moment in the movie. :) Love your username, btw. ;)

**YarisVamp: **you can run darling Robert but you can nay hide! ROFL that had me laughing for hours, lol, thanks!

**Samanthat Story: **Yes they should, but it would be pretty hard for Robert (a guy who proposed to his wife via letter) Ouch. ;)

**smartyjonescrzy: **I can't tell you how excited I am until I can finally add Miss Charlotte Forten into the mix, I have a feeling that it would be fun to write. ;) Oh yes, the next chaptar might be all about Trip...oops, the inside scoop. ;D

**CaPasseOuCaCasse: **Oh yes, I havea real problem with the grammer and need to work on it. :)Thanks so much for the constructive critism and review, it truly means a lot. :)

**dress4m: **Thank you. I think the movie dualogue makes the story more...realistic? :)

* * *

What is love?

How does it feel like? Not the kind of love you feel towards your parents or your bratty siblings. But the kind of love you would feel to someone else, preferably of the opposite sex, the kind of love you feel to a boy. In this case a young man just barely out of his teens. I never thought about this much before, what _is _love? It crossed my mind only once or twice. I admit I had looked up the definition in a dictionary before, but the meaning wasn't quite what I was looking for. Incidentally, Webster's is not the best source.

Noun: A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person; A feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.

Alright then. Affection, to some it all up. I talked to my step-sister about it, who is three years older than me and already on her sixth 'serious' boyfriend in the past two years. I asked her that infamous question years ago, when I was fifteen. She gave me a look that had her eyes melt into a golden puddle of happiness as she thought about love. She was grinning and staring up at the ceiling for fifteen minutes until I finally pried an answer out of her.

"Go away Alex, I'm busy doing my homework." Which really meant."Go away Alex, I'm about to call my boyfriend and talk for hours about nothing in particular."

I pinned her hands to her pillow."Why do you have so much boyfriends? Are you in love? How do you know?"

She shrugged."You just know."

"How?" I pressed, staring her down.

She gave me a look that would make Clint Eastwood duck and cover."Go away!" She groaned, her face turning a few shades of strawberry-pink.

I pouted."Please?"

She smiled and slapped me with a Tootsie Roll-shaped pillow."Some none specific symptoms: Your stomach does flip flops whenever you see him. You can't breathe when he smiles at you. When he talks to you, nothing else matters. When..."

I left before she could morph into Jane Austen.

Lets see, what are my other sources? Well, John Lennon for one. Or was it Paul McCartney? Petty of me to not remember, my dad is an avid Beatles fan, more like psychologically obsessed, he gives me their CD's for Christmas (gee, thanks Dad) and even has a record with a genuine autograph from the late John Lennon, the Walrus.

"All you need is love. Ta-ta-da-da."

Okay. So apparently if I had love and was dropped in the middle of the Sahara desert, I would be able to survive on nothing but dust, love, sand, dust, and love. Oh, forget the sand and dust, after all, all you need is love. Am I right? Ha! Lennon/McCartney have interesting philosophical ideas, they'd bring Socrates down, baby, down.

Okay, enough. Time to think like a big girl now. But first of all, where the heck was I? After Robert so graciously left me on the outskirts of the little village of tents, I began walking in a random direction. I was too busy dissecting the meaning of love that I didn't even notice where I was going, until now. It was totally dark, and totally cold. But for some reason, I wasn't scared. Probably because I could see the bright diamonds dazzling in the sky, and the loud, unsurprisingly on-key singing of the few Christmas carolers that our regiment was so lucky to possess. I sat down on what looked like a big rock, judging by the outline of it. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was the same rock I was sitting on when Andrews caught me 'drinking.'

We meet again.

I plopped myself down on it, staring at the few miserable oak trees that surrounded the rock, creating a tiny clearing space. I leaned my elbows on my knees, my chin resting in my hands. I moved my other hand to my waist, fisting it against my side. I looked like 'The Thinker', only I was wearing a considerable amount of more clothing.

Then it hit me like my uncle's Chevy pick-up truck. Was there even the slightest possibility that I was _in love_ with Robert? Robert as in Robert Gould Shaw? As in the famous Civil War colonel of the famous Fifty-Fourth Regiment? As in the guy who's memorial I visited on a field trip when I was in middle school? Oh, this is heavy.

I crossed my legs and went over my mental list. I squeezed my eyes shut and remembered everything I felt when I last seen Robert. I thought about that...er...educational moment when I hugged Robert, and instead of telling me off, he walked away. I still didn't understand what that was all about. I didn't get it at all. I need Oprah. Back to the list. What did I feel?

Electricity.

Fuzziness.

Lack of oxygen.

Warmth.

That tingly feeling you get when your foot falls asleep. Only more pleasant. I felt a spark in my body, that must have been the electricity. Not as in 'Thomas Edison' kind of electricity, but the kind of electric shock you get when you...when you...I paused my thoughts...when you what? I wanted to whine at the world for no apparent reason. Why was this so hard? I had officially realized something.

Drum roll please.

I am in love with Robert.

Or at least in the process of being in love with Robert. I'm falling really hard, and I hoped hope against hope that I wasn't crashing.

* * *

Forbes struggled as he approached a small, glowing campfire, cackling and spitting fire into the night air, like his own personal glittering beacon in the black frosty night. Forbes scowled at the sky, patches of silver stars burning above him; most were covered by ugly charcoal clouds, fat and icy, threatening to spill thick, sparkling white snow onto Forbes's grimacing face.

Forbes wasn't particlarly fond of spending Christmas on a frozen woodland-wasteland. He turned his head longingly to the east, where the dim lights of Boston glowed cheerfully in the distance. He didn't mind _that_ much. In truth, it wasn't what he _preferred_, but he learned to ignore the sting of the December air biting at his skin, and the fact that he could see his own breath in front of his face.

Forbes shifted a large pot of coffee that was slipping through the crook of his elbow and transferred it to a more secure position under his arm. In his other hand, he grabbed several tin cups in a crooked stack that leaned against his jacketed chest. Sensing that they were seconds from toppling to the flaky, muddy ground, Forbes picked up his pace and power-walked the rest of the way towards the lively orange fire, his current goal in life.

Charlie saw him approaching and stood up from his cracked wooden log to grab th shaky blue-tin cups out of Forbes's slipping grip, transferring them into his own arms. Andrews remained stationary on his did you bring four? He asked, inclining his red head at the metal mugs that Forbes brought. Forbes set the pot of coffee down and counted the clanking metal cups that Charlie was clutching, two in each hand. Well, so he _did_ bring four. No matter. Forbes answered Andrews' unimportant question with a dismissive shrug.

The three officers, comrades, friends, amigos decided to spend their freezing Christmas the only way they knew how: slouch around a major fire-hazard, guzzling down legal addictive substances, and brag to each other on who suffered the most wounds during the terrible battle of Antietam. They would have asked Robert to join them, of course, even though he probably would have turned them down anyway, but the man was grudgingly forced into a mandatory Christmas dinner with other high-ranking offices like himself. Well, you can't have everything.

Forbes picked the coffee pot back up again and plopped down on the log next to Charlie's. He dug deep into the inside pocket of his woolen, navy coat and produced a small, aluminum canteen filled to the brim with Kentucky Red-Eye. Forbes took a deep, long swig from the gullet, swallowing hard and wincing as the whiskey left a fiery trail coursing down his esophagus. He twisted the small metal cap back on and slid the 'canteen' back into his coat pocket, 'erasing' all evidence. No one would give a damn whether he drank or not, no one other than Robert.

Which was much worse.

Lieutenant Russel Andrews reached out for the handle of the coffee pot and poured steaming, Brazilian coffee halfway into each cup, leaving the fourth one empty. Forbes reached for his, and his two comrades did the same. He took a sip of the burning, black liquid, enjoying its bitter, exotic taste. The major 'aarghed' in appreciation, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"I never thought that someday I would spend my Christmas with you two fools." He grinned, joking as his eyes danced with the fire.

Both Charlie and Andrews smiled in amusement. "This isn't the first time, Forbes." Charlie spoke up, smiling at a fond memory."Only it was with Robert, as well."

Forbes squinted at the copper flames, lost in his own time machine."Ah yes." He spoke slowly."The Christmas party at Robert's mansion. I remember we caught a mouse in his father's wine cellar and unleashed it in Susannah's bedroom." The men laughed heartily at the memory of Susannah's panic when she discovered the poor, tiny rodent. They were fifteen, and the poor girl was twelve.

Innocent children.

Forbes would give anything to go back to those care-free times before the war. Before he had seen most of his boyhood friends blown to pieces at Antietam."I remember how angry Susannah was, the poor thing." Charlie chuckled. Forbes did not answer, his eyes captivated by the bright, passionate element flickering in the fire pit before him.

He remebered Susannah.

He fell _in love_ with Susannah. He never cared for her before. She was nothing but Robert's kid sister, nothing more and nothing less. But lately, after being away from her for two years at Harvard, Forbes began noticing new things outside of the 'immature-child' label that he had given her so long ago when they were care-free children before their country was ripped in half.

She had blossomed out of her shell into a beautiful young woman. A vision of a sun goddess, with long, golden-blonde hair and large, sparkling brown eyes that were so bright full of light and life, much like Robert's used to be. He noted that her figure also blossomed, though he would never admit that to Robert for he valued his nose and did not want his fist to smash it in.

"I wonder how the war will end." Charlie thought out loud, staring up at the angry midnight sky.

Andrews answered that first, in a jesting we go the Rebs will be saying 'there go the champions.

Forbes arched one blonde eyebrow."I just hope they won't be saying 'Yankee go home', Russell."

Russel snickered, but Charlie suddenly bolted in his seat, squinting at the deep darkness."Did you here that?" He gave them a sideways glance."It sounded like a ghostly scream."

Forbes snorted."Don't be superstitious, Charlie."

Russell Andrews sat up."I thought I heard it too. _Could_ it have been a scream?"

Forbes rolled his eyes, trying to appear that he did not find it the least bit spooky."Not you too."

"One of us should see if everything is alright." Charlie suggested, not breaking his gaze with the darkness blanketing a few bare oak trees.

"Yes." Andrews agreed."We should do something." Both men turned to look at Forbes.

Ah, but of course.

Forbes grunted, pushing himself off the ground. He looked around himself to see if any one had thought of bringing a lantern. There was none, why was he not surprised? Gingerly, he grabbed a torch-shaped log that was sticking so conveniently out of the fire. He dug through his pocket and produced a white linen handkerchief with his initials stitched on in blue string. Without a word, he reached his hand out towards Russell and Charlie; both obediently produced their own kerchiefs and placed them in his hands.

Quickly, Forbes tied and wrapped all three scraps of white cloth around the top part of the...stick. His right hand reached into the inside pocket of his coat again, producing the small tin of Kentucky Red Eye once more. He managed to part with a few drops, rationing them out on the kerchief. Sealing the cap back on with his teeth, he dumped it back into the deep uniform pocket. Slowly, he brought his make-shift torch to the fire and held his breath. It burst to life, burning only on the whiskey-drenched cloth, creating a perfectly flawless torch, exactly what he was aiming for.

Forbes raised the torch in the air, grinning in triumph as the flames flickered and illuminated his face. Andrews gazed at him, impressed."I wouldn't have thought of that."

Forbes cocked his head."Yes. Well, I like to use _both_ sides of my brain."

Andrews only shook his head in bemusement; but Charlie gazed at him skeptically."All that for a noise?"

Forbes scowled."You said we should do something."

Charlie stretched his legs out."We should." He repeated Andrews' words.

"Exactly." Forbes turned away, plunging confidently into the darkness with long, daring strides.

* * *

Robert was astride Glory, slowing him down when he reached the small 'officer's town' less than a mile outside of camp. Truth be told, Robert did not feel like being here. The only reason he dragged himself out of his tent this evening was that the 'invitation' used big words and made it sound like this was mandatory. Robert was hoping to run into the quartermaster, it had been weeks since he asked for those damned shoes and still had not received a response.

Robert saluted to a shivering private that reached for Glory's reins as the colonel dismounted in front of the large cafeteria-like building, allowing Glory to be towed away towards the make-shift stables. He strolled diligently towards the brightly-lit entrance, trying to avoid eye-contact with a laughing group of sergeants flirting with a drunken bad woman.

Robert mentally shook his head, removing his kepi as he crossed the threshold into the 'warmth.' Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a tall, scraggly Christmas tree in the corner, decorated by candles and popcorn strings. Another private, a few years younger than Robert himself, reached for his cap and blue cloak, hanging them on a nearby meal hook that was sticking out of the wall. He was seated by yet another silent private, who saluted and stopped Robert in front of a table with a fat, beady-eyed man smoking a Cuban cigar, and a strained blonde man that looked like he wished out be some place else.

Great minds think alike.

The fat man adjusted the white napkin that was tucked deeply into the collar of his shirt, removing the cigar from his mouth."You're Shaw, aren't you? Merry Christmas." He reached out one stubby-fingered hand and gripped Robert's long, slender one. Robert had dropped his fork back on his plate to meet the man's hand, shaking it with one strong pump."Kendrick, division quartermaster."

Robert nodded, giving him a genuine smile. Just the man he was looking for. Kendrick leveled his head at the middle-aged blonde with small wire-rimmed glasses that was seated to Robert's right."This sorry piece of work is Haggis." The man tiredly trains his spectacled blue eyes to Robert's brown ones."He rights vouchers."

Robert half-turns, twisting his body to shake hands with the disinterested Haggis, who looked bothered out of his present, lazy position."Pleasure." Robert tries, enthusiastically.

The man rewards him with a half-smile."Pleasure."

Their introductions are followed by a few minutes of silence as the three men turn their attention back down to their plates. Soon after, Haggis surprises Robert by speaking."How's it..._going_...down there?" He speaks cautiously, as if testing Robert's waters.

Robert glances at him, before returning his gaze back to his plate."Oh, _very_ well. Thank you." He makes sure to empathize the word 'very.'

Kendrick looks fatigued, shifting forward."That's all right. Brass are all up to Division, planning the next disaster." He smirks. Robert only blinks, chewing slowly on something he can't taste.

Kendrick lowers his voice, his pig-eyes twinkling."Your among friends." He grins, making Robert nod and respond with a wooden smile."How much longer do you figure they'll last?"

The tired blonde Haggis speaks in a voice that his sister Susannah reserved specifically for gossip."I hear they're deserting ten at a time."

Robert drops the artificial smile."Oh, you're misinformed." He replies defensively, taking a sip of water. "We haven't had a single incident."

"See?" Kendrick gives Haggis a profound nod, an I-told-you-so set of his jaw was scrunching his double chin. "I figure the nigs' never had it so good." He gestures wildly with cigar, almost as fat as his fingers."Three square a day, a roof over their heads..." He chuckles loudly."...and they gotta no nobody's gonna let them fight. Am I right?"

Robert listens quietly, his mouth fixed in a tight line. He stares up at Kendrick and his eyes flicker as he swallows his pride."Yes, of course." He replies curtly, pursing his lips in a perfect 'O.'

Kendrick seemed to realize that he stepped over some invisible line into Robert's sore territory. He ceased to laugh, leaving just a hint of a smile as he leaned toward Shaw. Robert struggles not to lean away. "So, if there's anything you need?" He tries awkwardly, attemptnig to fix the crippled situation. Receiving no encouraging response from Robert, he blindly surges on with suggestions."A bottle for the cold nights? A-"

Robert cuts him off, his genuine friendliness replaced with politeness he did not feel."Yes. Actually, I put in a requisition for some shoes two weeks ago." Kendrick's smile fades with each word."And I haven't heard anything." The young colonel speaks in an authoritative tone, his words distinct and his body language sedate.

Kendrick's black, dwarf eyes dart instinctively to Haggis, who remains quiet, pushing his food around his plate and refusing to come to his rescue."Well, provisionaly speaking..." Though he doesn't show it, Robert feels slightly amused at Kendrick's blumbering struggle for words."We're extremely...er..._limited_ as to footwear." The corner of Robert's mouth twitches downward. Kendricks continues."I'm afraid that kind of item has to be reserved for those units whose fighting readiness...uh..._supersede _yours." Kendrick doesn't sound regretful at all, if the gloating shine in his eyes told Robert anything. "You understand, I'm sure." Robert shoots Haggis a sideways glance, he returns one nonchalantly, in agreement with his fat friend.

Robert grinds his teeth and anchors his jaw in disappointment."Yes, I understand." He exhales loudly, purposely injecting abrupt bitterness into his sigh. Robert glances down, balling his cloth napkin in one tight fist. His eyes flash back to Kendrick's cocky face. Robert all but glares back. In fact, he feels slightly alarmed by the pestering itch in his knuckles, as if begging him to make contact with Kendrick's face. He tried to make his instincts believe that this was not necessary.

Robert sits for a minute, listening to the gentle hum of conversation and the steady rise and fall of voices around him. He hears glasses clinking against each other, and forks scraping the plates. Robert stares at the small flame in the gas lamp in front of him, as it danced and reflected in his spiritless eyes. He shifts slightly, dropping his crumpled napkin loosely right next to his plate, rising slowly out of his seat.

"Excuse me." He says, not that he means it; only it's polite and he has to.

Kendrick can't get enough of Robert's downfall. He waves it in front of him. "Well, stop by tomorrow." He sounded serious but his eyes were teasing him."I have got my hands on the most delicious local jam." He makes an enchanted face like his useless jam is the best item that is available in the world. He beckons his sleepy-eyed comrade. "Myrtle berry, isn't it?"

Haggis hold his chin in his hand, rubbing at his short beard."Blueberry." He corrects.

Kendrick waves him off dismissively."Right. Right."

Robert watches both men through brown-eyed slits, unfortunately, his helpless jam won't put leather on his regiment's feet. Kendrick nods mockingly, his eyes shining like he just told a good joke. "Nice meeting you, Shaw."

Robert fired a loaded glance, pinning his arms securely to his side. He turns around mechanically, walking away form the cocky varmint on wooden limbs. Kendrick laughs ignorantly when he was sure that Robert was out of ear-shot. "Twit." Robert hears him mutter, trying to be secretive about it to Haggis.

It was all Robert could do not to turn around and shoot the man a double-take. That was not all that he felt like doing to him. That itching sensation returned to his knuckles, and Robert gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, sealing them tighter to his sides. He would get them those shoes. He wasn't sure how or when, but he would get them.

* * *

I was still sitting on that hard rock in the dark, and it was starting to hurt my butt. I stared up at the starry skies, singing the nursery rhyme Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and asking myself why my life was so darn emotional, besides the fact that the monthly screw-up fairy has yet to visit me. Gee, I sure can't wait. I made a face, dissecting my latest conclusion.

_Was_ I in love with Robert?

I was seventeen years old, eighteen in exactly two weeks, and according to ageist adults, I did not know what love is. Bite me. I knew the basics, sorta, kinda, maybe. I mean, there's nothing to it, am I right? "Anybody?" I spoke out loud to the sky.

Then I began interrogating myself. Yes or no questions only, please.

Do you feel excited to see Robert anytime?

(So he can assign me another difficult task? Like riding Charlie's fat horse and shoving watermelons on nails wasn't enough.) No.

Are you or are you not bipolar?

No Comment.

Frankly, that was a good question. But I won't think about that now, I'll think about that tommorow, when I don't have as much on my mind. I shifted my body weight, and crossed my right leg over my left. Of course I'm not surprised that I magically slid off of the stupid rock and landed right in the snow. I screamed as the wet, icy, powdery stuff soaked through my jeans.

I jumped up, brushing off as much as I could.

Oh my life. God it sucks.

It was a few minutes later, after stomping on the snow in anger, did I see the light. No, not that magic light, like when an artist suddenly falls to their knees and screams in joy that the 'gods have sent them a vision for his next artistic masterpiece.' Right. Well, whatever floats their boat. But the light _I_ saw was different.

It was like fire, flickering in the distance, and it was in the air. It was held like a torch, and coming closer to me. It looked like the dead Torch-man that people tell you about during scary story time around the campfire. I screamed again, petrified, and too frozen to move. It stopped, freezing in place, as if it _too_ was scared.

It waited for a few minutes in silence, before advancing once again."We should do something." I heard it's voice, higher than nessacary, as if it was mocking someone's words. It snorted."We. We. We." Oddly, the dead Torch-man sounded a lot like Forbes."Why does the 'we' always has to be '_me_' all the damn time." He continued with his agited monologue.

I loosened up a little, squinting at the light as it drew closer."Forbes!" I croaked.

The light stopped, flickering in place."Alex? Is that you!" He called, his voice echoing across the campsite.

He drew closer and I stepped into his circle of light. Thank God and Hallelujah that it wasn't the Torch-man. I heard him swear under his breath when he saw me."Why did you scream?" He demanded.

"I fell in the snow." I replied sheepishly.

Forbes stared at me. He sighed. Then he stared some more. He gestured with the torch, back at the campsite."Ladies first."

**Not really sure why I called this chapter "Bite Me." Must have been the homework that's causing my sleep deprivation. Or maybe that little 'static-y scene w/ Rob and the Quartmaster. [If only he knew what was coming to him.]) :)**

**Note: Russell Andrews was a real character in Glory, he's even in the credits. :)**

**Fun fact: Did you know that while filming Glory the stars Matthew Broderick and Cary Elwes did NOT get along on set? Director Zwick says that in the commentary. Scandalous. ;)**


	31. While the Earth Sleeps

**Sorry for taking for EVER, it's been what? Almost a month? So much has happened since then: renewd my permit, had a b-day, went to Boston for b-day andgot to see Shaw Memorial! And talk to a tour guide! Yay! Funny, the Shaw Memorial is smaller than I imagined it to be. But it was so beautiful in real life. I just stood there and stared at it for literally half an hour, then I told my dad allabout RGS, it was super cool.**

**Anywho...**

**otose**: Aww. You're lucky to have such a sweet boyfriend.

**Beagle Bug**: Thanks a bunch Ugh, don't even get me started on finals...

**IceDragonHikari**: I'm not random, people just can't think as fast as me. Jk jk jk. Sorry for the wait. ;)

**CaPasseOuCaCasse**: Thank you! I'm a history freak too (as I told you) and add a mix of time travel to it and I am in love. :) By the way, hows your story coming? If you're gonna need the script again, please let me know. :)

**BK Love-ah**: Took her a while to figure that one out, eh? :D

**Jazmonsterr**: Ralex! Haha, that made my evening. If only the other half of the Ralex would agree. (Hey! If we change the a to an o it would be Rolex, like the watch, get it?) Haha...not funny. ;)

**CarminaxBuranax**: I would update sooner, but teachers just don't seem to realize how important fanfiction is! Ugh/.

**dress4m**: Well, it's about Matthew, I thought it could fit in.

**Anonymous**: I know, right? They totally fooled me. Great acting!

**YarisVamp**: Mentioning my story? Now _that_ made my day. :D

**smartyjonescrzy**: Glad your back! But I love the detail, I am a freak for detail. Aren't the tiny things the most important ones? No. Only in CSI. ;D I read the Susannah part on Wiki, too bad it was AFTER I posted that on site, which is what I call...ironic. Haha, I was waiting for youn to point that out, thinking of all people, smarty will catch it for sure! :D Thanks!

**Hannah**: I hope it will! :) Come spring break there will be more time to type! Yay me! ;)

**Samantha Story**: Haha, me neither. ;)

* * *

Trip cracked one toffee eye open, peering into the silent darkness. It was quiet, cliched even, too quiet. Trip held his breath as he slowly unwrapped his body out of a thin, dirty blanket, wriggling his arms and legs until they were free of his bed. Blinking in attempt to make his eyes adjust faster, Trip searched the tent floor with his hands for his pair of 'shoes.'

If that field-hand was going to be such a square, then Trip was going alone. By now, he could make out the shapes of the sleeping figures of his tent mates, their chests rising and falling along with their automatic breathing. Trip winced as the wrinkled leather made contact with his swollen foot, sliding it on to his raw skin as quickly as he dared.

His throat was on fire as he struggled not to breathe, pulling the tan flap toward himself and slipping soundlessly out of the tent. He burst into gasps as he drunk in the cold, midnight air, rubbing his upper arms to cause friction for heat. Trip cast his eyes up to the full moon, gazing at it's chalky-white crevices and studying its position in the sky.

He guessed it to be an hour or so after midnight. Plenty of time, he assured himself. He remembered it being three miles to the lady's farm, perhaps four. He could jog a mile in less than fifteen minutes. That wuld take two hours off of his time table, one to get there, the other to come back. Roll call is at six in the morning. It is currently one.

Plenty of time.

* * *

My eyes were locked on Forbes's back, following his tall, slender form through the darkness of the trees and into the dim glow of he moonlight. Forbes occasionally threw a glare at me over his shoulder, and I scowled right back, matching his enthusiasm. I knew he was pretty peeved, but Forbes is peeved at everything. Let him be mad, he'll get over it, it was a simple misunderstanding. He turned around again, his eyebrows knitted together in frustration; I crossed my arms and stuck my tongue at him, childishly. His reaction wasn't what I was aming for. He burst out laughing, cover his face with his hands and shifting to the side so that I could walk next to him instead of behind him.

We would make awesome BFFs, the dynamic duo, for we couldn't even stay mad at each other for longer than two minutes. Forbes was still smiling as we trudged our way into camp, sloshing through the muddy snow. It looked like somebody spilled buckets and buckets of chocolate slushies on the ground. I narrowed my eyes at it, it looked almost edible.

We trudged in cheerful silence through the...snow, glowing orange dots of fires appearing in the distance. Forbes angled his body to the left and marched expertly towards one of the campfires, aiming at the one with two other figures seated beside it. As we approached, I recognized Charlie the Unicorn and Andrews the...the...we'll leave that blank; sprawled on wet logs with tin coffee mugs in their hands, the steam rising in their faces.

"Good evening, Miss...Alex." Charlie greeted, rising in chivalry.

I smiled at him, but Forbes rolled his eyes. Andrews remained stationary, scowling into his coffee cup. "Should you not be at your quarters, Miss Janeiro?" He hissed, venom dripping from his tone. "Or better yet, in town. This is no place for a lady."

If only he knew that there were female _generals_ in my time, if only.

"Then I guess you shouldn't be here either." I muttered under my breath, but not loud enough for him to hear. I wouldn't dare. Right.

Forbes plopped himself down on the log, gesturing grandly at a wide, open space between him and Charlie. He widened his eyes, fighting sleep, and ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair. He cocked his head right and left, cracking the bones in the muscles of his neck. I recoiled, feeling one of my eyes twitch. Together, the four of us sat in an awkward silence, until Charlie the superhero, decided to break it.

"So, are you the source of the noise, Alex?" He asked, having trouble with saying my name. I winced, he just made it worse.

I glanced at Forbes, whose face had taken on a slightly pinkish hue. I turned back to Alex. "Yes."

Andrews and Charlie exchanged loaded glances. Then erupted in flamboyant laughter.

I blinked, confused. "What's so funny?"

Charlie sobered long enough to tell me what's going on. "Forbes put on quiet a heroic show when venturing our to find the source of the 'ghostly scream'."

Forbes sat there, coughing into his fist. "What do I look like?" He muttered, raising one shapely, blonde eyebrow. "Some expert on woodland noises?"

Charlie and Andrews laughed even harder, and even Forbes had to smile.

Somebody had a little bit too much. What were they drinking? "What's in there?" I asked, nudging a dark-blue, tin pot with my foot.

"Coffee!" Forbes exclaimed quickly, eager to change the subject.

Charlie reached behind him and produced another tin cup, offering it to me. "Would you like any?"

I shrugged, figuring: what the heck. "Sure." Charlie picked up the pot and poured me some. I _swear_ I heard Andrews growl. "Thanks."

"Your quiet welcome." Charlie smiled, setting the coffee pot down again.

I put the coffee to my lips, sucking in my breath as the hot steam rose into my face. I blew on the scorching black surface of the liquid onyx, before attempting to drink it again. Warm, rich coffee was being poured down my gullet, and I never new that plain black coffee could taste that good. Then again, being cut off from the junk food of the 21st century made everything taste delicious, even black licorice, which I totally despised.

I looked glanced down at the coffee, swirling in the metal cup.

It ain't Starbucks, but it's not bad, not bad at all. If the guys are going to get hiked up on caffeine, there won't be any drowsiness tonight.

* * *

Trip sprinted across dark, frozen fields, sliding in places where the dead earth was too slippery. He followed his breath to the farm, watching it as it escaped from his mouth in puffy little clouds. He liked this feeling of freedom, the adrenaline of doing something so exciting. The feel of his arms and legs pumping through the winter air and working together like greased axles.

Of course, the feeling of sweet escape was always accompanied by a bitter fear. Trip felt the fine hairs rise on the back of his neck, as well as his stinging arms. Suddenly his body felt heavy, his lungs started to burn, his eyes watered, and there was never enough oxygen. He had felt this way whenever he was twelve, glancing over his shoulder as he scrambled to put as much distance behind him and that horrible plantation as possible.

The first time, they had caught him. The massa's pack of hounds easily catching his clumsy, panicked trial. His grandfather, who died just before the war started, warned him not to cross dry ground, to splash through every pond, stream, or puddle he saw to sidetrack his scent. Out of his hurry and childish glee, Trip ignored the old man's warning.

The bloodhounds, hot on his heels, soon gained purchase of his shirt, pouncing on his and growling if he tried to move. He lay in a fetal position, guarded by six, foamy-mouthed dogs barring their teeth at him if he so much as blinked; until the overseers caught up with them. They dragged him back to the plantation kicking and screaming. And what happened next, Trip would always be reminded of by the permanent scars sketched across his back.

He ignored the blinding, sore thoughts that always hit home, as one dim light of the farm came to view, beckoning him from a distance.

* * *

Robert rubbed tiredly at his eyes, groaning quietly as he stripped out of his blue coat, spreading his arms and fisting his hands in his air, stretching his sore body. It felt good to relax after another long day of fighting. If only mentally and with himself. Tonight, there was nothing more he could do about those shoes, but he would put it on hold, reassuring himself that he would wear Kendricks down.

Robert untied his boots, sliding them off of his socked feet and kicking them to the corner of his room, too tired and lazy to stand them up in their proper place. He yawned widely, making his eyes water and his vision blacken from head rush. Dropping down on to the springy mattress, Robert rubber small circles on his temples in hopes to avoid a heavy headache that would bother him in the morning.

He was going to work himself to death.

Robert sighed again, licking a digit and pinching the flame of the candle by his bedside, listening to the fire sizzle and die. He sat in the darkness for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. He had seen Andrews, Charlie, Miss Janeiro and Forbes celebrating cheerfully around a roaring fire. But he was alone. So alone, spending Christmas in he dark.

Robert shrugged, reasoning with himself that this was no big deal, that he was here not to celebrate but to work, perhaps make a difference about the opinions of society on blacks. His reputation was spiriling down as well, he believed it. Robert draped his blanket over his body, and he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

It was the first time he dreamed of Miss Janeiro.

* * *

Trip's body slammed into the door of the little, tile-roofed cottage of the farm. He was running so quickly that it took effort to turn his feet into brakes. There was a light in the window, but it was dark inside. That's understandable, the family must have been asleep. Trip knocked three times using his hard, bony knuckles.

No answer.

Trip waited for a minute, before his big, brown hand contacted the wooden door again. Three times. Knock. Knock. Knock. Again, after a while, there was no answer. This time Trip grew a bit worried. He pounded again, becoming louder and louder, until his taps turned into full out slams. Why were they not answering the door?

Trip grew sad and discouraged. He slumped down on the porch, scratching his head. The family was not home, his stomach was empty, and his feet were bare. Trip hoped that he would leave this place with a par of fresh, comfortable knew duds that actually fit him. He snorted bitterly, who ever guaranteed?

Trip wallowed in disappointment, watching snowflakes fall onto the silent earth, and loosing track of time.

* * *

I'm wondering how I even survived so long of camp life. I was never any good at it. Whenever my Martian family would take me camping, I would sit around glaring at the fire, wondering: What the hell am I doing? I don't _camp_. I don't march. I don't clean swords. I don't listen to Andrews hint around that I am a woman and would never by worth anything. I don't sit by a fire melting imaginary marshmallows and pretending I'm really melting Andrew's face.

Do possums eat people? I've seen some pretty vicious furry things running around before, I don't like my chances.

I don't hang out with guys back in the future. The opposite sex avoids me like the plague. I don't know a single young guy who's only passions in life does not include: cars, sex, and money. I don't study history, let alone _be_ in one. I don't do army drills. And Robert, _darling_, there are _twenty four_ hours in a day, not oh-six hundred. There is so much stuff that I _don't_ do. But what _do_ I do besides whine about everything?

Wow, I just told myself off.

The dudes were on their third cups of coffee, chuckling fondly at something I wasn't a part of. "Yes, I _do _remember." Charlie was saying. "How could one forget?"

I leaned forward. "Whatcha talkin' about?"

The guys exchanged she-is-_so_-lost looks with each other.

"Were you not paying attention?" Forbes asked, appearing a bit incredulous.

Nope. Never been good at it.

I shook my head.

"We were remembering how Robert dressed as a woman to Forbes' birthday party when he was nineteen." Charlie answered, being patient with me.

Forbes smirked, taking a sip of the Brazilian coffee. "He had me fooled, too."

"I completely believed him." Andrews spoke to Char and Cab, but not to me.

I found that hard to believe, even though Charlie had told me about this before.

"Why'd he do that?" I asked, giggling at the thought of serio Roberto in a dress.

Forbes smiled at me. "Robert was very different back then." He explained to me.

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh really."

"He's a good man." Charlie threw in his two cents, staring into the fire.

"Well loved by everyone." Forbes smiled slightly, leaning into me and dropping his voice. "Even now."

He stared at me, and I stared back. "I don't know what you mean." I replied indignantly, I knew _exactly_ what he was hinting at.

Forbes shrugged with his eyebrows. "I think you do."

"Your impossible." I replied, stomping on his foot. "Just impossible."

Forbes grinned at this. "I believe _Robert's_ not impossible, is he?"

I sighed in an agitated manner, roaring like a lion does when it's trapped in a corner. Charlie and Andrews looked confused. Poor Charlie. Screw Andrews. They blinked and blinked at us, trying to get their hands on our thoughts. Charlie stared at me, his eyes bouncing back to Forbes occasionally. Then he smiled, slowly.

"I believe your not the only one smitten here." He muttered at Forbes, his suggestive smile spreading to a grin.

Forbes was so surprised he spit out his coffee. "Pardon?"

Charlie began to hum. 'Oh Susanna! Now don't you cry for me...'

Forbes's eye began to twitch. "And if I am?" He challenged.

"Then Alex has every right to tease _you_." Ha! He got him good.

"She also has every right to go to her sleeping quarters at this time of night." Andrews snapped, if only in a hushed tone.

Die.

"You met a girl, Forbes?" I asked, widening my eyes and pretending to be surprised. "A _human_ girl?"

Forbes looked amused. "Yes I did." He replied, rinsing it down with a sip of cooling coffee. "Robert's sister."

He's gonna shoot you, buddy.

"The blonde chick...er...the woman I spoke to?" I asked, editing my sentence. Susannah was Miss Congeniality, I could see why Forbes would liked her. Besides, she resembled Kiara Nightly enough to make me jealous.

Forbes nodded.

Then it grew quiet again. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, gazing at the fire and seeing someone they missed or something they left behind at the summit of the war. Nostalgia creeped in, spinning a web of homesickness around us like a poisonous spider, ccatching us in its trap until someone was strong enough to break it free.

"What are your plans for after the war?" Charlie asked softly throwing the question out there, to no one in particular. "Where do you want to go with your life."

Forbes sighed, slumping in his seat. "I will take up responsibility. Finish Harvard, and marry Susannah..." He trailed off, poking at the dieing fire with a stick.

"I never had enough gold." Andrews muttered, rubbing his forehead. "I wanted to open my own hospital, but..." He shrugged, looking away.

"I want to travel." Charlie spoke slowly, a soft smile displayed on his thin lips. "I want to see the world. I want to see California. How exotic must it be? So many people pouring into there from every corner of the globe."

"It's from the gold rush." Forbes reasoned. "People pour into San Francisco through our base at Angel Island."

The spoke as if they would never get to _complete_ those plans. It made me sad.

Charlie nodded. "What about yourself, Alex?" This time, he addressed _me_.

I shrugged. What was I going to say? I'm going to go back to the future, so I can read about you from my history book. But my history book doesn't give a fudge, and probably won't include you, only Robert; because people that write history books are jerks. Then it struck me, what if I don't want to go back? What if I like it here?

If I raised the issue with Marty he'd kill me myself.

Andrews rose from his log. "Goodnight, gentlemen, I'm turning in."

Ah, saved by the bell.

I stood up, pretending to stretch. "I must retire as well."

"Good night, Alex." The men said in unison, finishing the last of the coffee.

I all but ran back to the sleeping quarters, accidentally waking one of the men with my stomping. He glared at me and I held up my finger to my lips, I think that pissed him off more. But her rolled over and went back to bed anyway. I tip-toed to my bed using an Indian Walk that I learned from my fat cat that scratches and bites my legs all the time.

At least she had some benefit. Teaching.

I climbed into the back-breaking wooden cot and slipped my blanket over my head.

* * *

Trip jogged silently back to camp. The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east, just a tiny strip of light blue on the eastern horizon. He had made it, though his dash was in vain. Trip tried not to bring himself down because of it. He could always go back again, when the family was home. Still, he was mightily disappointed.

He stopped for a breath, bending over and putting his hands on his knees. He still had at least two hours to sleep as well. He was just inside the gate already, having climbed over it expertly, using years of practice that he had as a child. His sensed were dulled, as he struggled to control his shallow, rapid breathing, and attempting to ignore the pulsing in his feet.

Trip almost yelped in surprise as two strong hands caught his arms, pulling them back. He kicked and struggled to get out of the iron grasp, but the man refused to let go, dragging him through the small colony of tents. Trip tried to put all his weight in it, to e heavier than he was, but the man was stronger than that and didn't seem bothered at all.

"You deserting, boy?" He drawled, his voice proving enjoyment, shoving him into a medical tent.

Trip looked up at the man. He was very tall, with red hair, and a long face that looked like he looked down on every person that wasn't a white, first-class man. It made Trip angry, and he showed it with his scowl, barring his teeth like an animal. Maybe he could dodge past him and slip through the entryway of the tent.

But it was too late for that. There were loud footsteps of boots sloshing through mud, and three officers came in, a captain and Sergeant Mulcahy. The captain's eyes jumped from the glaring Trip to the redheaded man. He calculated and studied the situation, before addressing the red-head with a solemn salute.

"Andrews, what is this?" He demanded, fatigued.

"Deserter." 'Andrews' replied. The Sergeant Mulcahy was on him immediately, as well as the lieutenant, drowning out the captain. Trip struggled. But he had no choice.

He surrendered.

* * *

**Again, so sorry, school is dragging me down, down down...:D**


	32. Damage

**I'm back everybody! Sorry, this Glory section has been a tomb lately. Blame it on the school. I'm going to go insane soon, can't wait for spring break. If I see another test I will scream, bring on them straightjackets.**

**So here it goes…the dun dun dun scene. So nervous to see what you guys think.**

**For those of you romantics out there, yes, there is a tiny Rob-Alex moment wedged in here. :)**

* * *

**CarminaxBuranax**: Thank you so much, school was totally keeping me away from fanfiction. It's like teachers don't realize how important this is for my sanity! ;)

**CaPasseOuCaCasse**: No big deal, I hope you get your computer to work, that must suck, and you sound like you'd be a very good writer.

**Otose**: Haha, that's so ironic! I know, if I was Alex, I'm wondering if I would even _want_ to go back.

**BK Love-ah**: Hehe, sometimes when I read my writing I start blushing at the embarrassing scenes with Robert and Alex.

**IceDragonHikari**: Thank you so much, school is the problem, it slows everybody down. Spring Break, spring break, spring break…

**Jazmonsterr**: I totally feel what you mean about more Ralex moments…there is one in here. ;)

**Beagle Bug**: No I didn't, but I did go to the Monterey aquarium! It's awesome, but it's like three hours away from my house.

**Anonymous**: Don't you just love Forbes? ;)

**YarisVamp**: Get that Kleenex box ready. ;)

**HeartlessVampireGirl**: I know! I cried when he died. But that's why we have fanfiction, to somehow 'change' reality…

**Hannah**: School! You too? You must feel my pain…sniff sniff. J Yes, I totally need to work on my Ralex moments. J

**Lauren**: Thank you so much! That totally made me smile, I mean usually people don't like OCs. So thank you!

**smartyjonescrzy**: Nah, don't worry about it. I'm glad that you just forgot, instead of lost patience with me. ;) I know, I know. But it's so hard not to inch my way into Uncle Tom's territory. I'm wringing my hands waiting to see what people think. *Holds breath* It's kinda graphic. Eek.

* * *

Cold.

Some damn person shaking him; saying his name over and over. Leave me be, he wanted to say, his mouth pressed into his scratchy pillow. He must have made some groggy, muffled response to have that person shake him even harder. Bloody hell, what did they want from him? The bugle rise did not even sound yet. Why was it always Forbes this and Forbes that? They treated him like some bloody bell boy. It was too early for this and he didn't want to put up with it. But Forbes rolled over anyway, if only because he knew whining was for weaklings. He cracked one eye open.

_"Tell ole' Pharaoh: Let my Cabot go..."_

"What?" He asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance. Come to think of it, it _was_ a tad bit hard to fall asleep last night, but he refused to believe that Alex was right and that his current state of fatigue had to do with last night's endless batches of coffee. Oh, caffeine. Forbes squinted at the silhouette of the person that did the waking. Lavender-blue shadows of light of the early morning slanted through the cracks of the wooden barracks, and when the man leaned closer, Forbes recognized him as Charlie. The major sat up quickly, wincing from the immediate head rush that temporarily darkened his vision. "What is it, Captain?"

Charlie's stone carved face appeared melancholy. He only said one word, and that was power enough to make Forbes _fly_ out of bed. "Deserter."

Forbes was in his clothes in a matter of seconds, shivering slightly from the morning air, and pulling on his muddy boots and tying the laces. He looked up at Charlie from his bootstraps, eyeing him with sheer resolution. "Who caught him?" He questioned, applying his no-nonsense tone that he rarely used.

"Andrews did." Charlie replied shortly. Forbes was glad that his friend was always to the point, not dancing around the edges in an unnerving manner lik so many others.

Forbes stood up, his fingers weaving in and out of stitched holes with the golden buttons of his navy suit. "Where is he now?"

Charlie squinted, confused. "Andrews?"

Forbes looked annoyed, raking a hand through his tousled blonde hair. "The deserter!" He stage-whispered, the early morning and worry of what to do was causing this abrupt irritation.

Charlie seems to stumble over his words. "They're both in the medical quarters. The private is being held there by two armed guards."

As if one wasn't enough. Forbes replied with a nod, pulling on his wrinkled kepi. "On with it, Morse, eh?"

Sure enough, the deserter was just where Charlie said he would be. Both men simultaneously stepped into the Medical Tent, pulling the flaps back with their cold-cracked hands for an easier entry-way inside. Forbes was shocked by what he saw.

There was a tall, dark man slumping his broad shoulders over two guards, each locked one of his arms with both hands, pulling them to their sides so that he would have no possible means of escape. The look of defiance that was projected towards the major was so strong that Forbes had to look away for a brief moment, struggling to compose himself so that his blue eyes could meet the man's torturous gaze

"Awaiting orders, Sir." Forbes had not even noticed Andrews, who was seated at his medical workbench, polishing a small, silver cigar case with a blackened rag. He looked almost smug, and it disgusted Forbes.

Then it dawned on him; the reason why he was brought here. They wanted leadership, somebody to tell them how to handle the puzzling situation. Forbes stumbled back a fraction of an inch. Forbes wasn't a leader; they chose the wrong man for the job. He didn't know what to do; they needed Robert.

Yes, Robert would know what to do.

* * *

I raked a hand through my nasty, tangled hair, sneezing in the dim light of the rising sun. My hair is gradually getting dirty and oiled again, the shampoo is calling; and when I think about the process of washing my hair again I feel a little sick, especially since last time Robert was there to be my lifeguard. I felt so disgusting, hiding my face behind my collar so no one would notice me. Not that anyone was paying me any attention otherwise.

The whole camp was so disorganized this morning, men and officers were half dressed and seemed to be running around in circles, trying to pull themselves together before the colonel had a chance to see them and reprimand them for their irresponsible behavior. No one but Forbes would have the guts to say a word to him of back-talk either.

Speak of the bloody devil. There was a large commotion at the very end of one of the 'streets' at camp. The kind of dinosaur-stomping running that was louder than the sounds of the other men's footsteps, almost drowning them out. The other men cleared a space for three high-ranking officers, shouting at the soldiers to get out of their way. The crowd parted in half, so that the group of Moseses could smoothly make their way to the front without any more interruptions.

Forbes was at the head of the group, his eyes with a hint of blood shot, and his blonde hair, which was no more presentable than mine, was unbrushed and his bangs ran into his unshaven face. Mulcahy and Charlie were a beat behind him; pinning their sabers down to their sides to minimize their excessive swaying. All three were breathing heavily thanks to the jogging, and the young Charlie, who was barely out of his teens, looked less fit than Mulcahy.

"Forbes!" I shouted, confused with their urgent, no-nonsense behavior. "What's going on?"

Forbes slowed down but he did not stop, motioning for me to jog with them. "There was a deserter." He replied gravely.

I stopped in my tracks, watching them run on without me until they stopped in front of Sir Robert's quarters. There can't be a deserter! That would stab Robert to the core. Besides, Rawlins told me that no one would even _think_ of running away, he practically _promised_ to me. Who _would_ desert? Who? What? When? Why? How? It was beyond me.

* * *

Robert examined his face in the mirror, just as he normally would in the morning. He frowned at features he didn't like and blinked appreciatively at things he found acceptable. His hair, brown like the earth after a heavy rain, was ruffled and protruding in every direction, much thicker than any other man's. He met his brown eyed gaze in the looking glass, framed by long, dark eyelashes that brushed his high cheekbones whenever he blinked. Speaking of cheeks, Robert brushed a hand across his face, frowning at the coarse, unshaven feeling that met his hand.

He dug through a kit of toiletries discarded carelessly in the top drawer of his small, wooden dresser; a large tin bowl filled with clean, soapy water was resting on top of it. Robert semiconsciously pulled on one of the straps of his suspenders-uniform over his shoulder, and with mild interest, began to make shaving cream.

He mixed a white powder with a few drops of water, a little like the kind women used for facial makeup, and lathered the creamy paste onto the bottom half of his face, leaving the nose and mouth bare. His eyes still on the mirror, Robert reached into the half-opened drawer and searched for his long, shiny razor. He pulled out the sharp, silver blade and watched it gleam as it caught the morning light and danced around the room.

Robert was not sure why he was taking extra care to get ready this morning. Why was he in such a good mood this morning? Despite the way that obese quartermaster brought him down yesterday. Why did he study his uniform this morning for flaws? Heaven forbid there was a deplorable button or loose thread to make his wardrobe look less presentable. Robert shook his head, smirking knowingly at himself in the mirror, as if the man who stared back at him was someone else. The last time he felt this way was the morning after going to the opera and meeting Miss Annie Haggerty for the first time.

Robert even caught himself mentally humming the _Star Spangled Banner_ as the blade of the razor made contact with his skin, deleting his imperfections. _"And the rocket's red glare.._."

He was never so excited to start another day in camp before. _"The bombs bursting in air!"_

_"Gave proof through the night."_ Robert allowed himself a small smile, but it erupted into a grin like that of a fool, and he mumbled the next part out loud. "That our flag was still there." Miss Jan-

The flap that served as his door was pulled away so abruptly that it almost startled him. He turned around swiftly, pulling a business mask over his almost boyishly giddy emotions. His eyes met Forbes's frantic, at-a-loss ones. Forbes widened his own, blinking bemusedly at Robert. It took him a few seconds more to find his bearings. All the while, Robert waited patiently.

"Excuse me, Sir." His friend murmured awkwardly, remembering himself.

Robert watched Forbes, shifting his gaze into a look of serenity, worry brewing just below the surface. "What is it?"

Forbes swallowed hard, moistening his winter-chapped lips. "We've...uh...caught a deserter."

Robert struggled to keep his expression unchanging, set into a diligent mask of calmness. He mustered a feeble, shaky nod. "Yes. Thank you."

Forbes returned an awkward nod, while Robert waited for him to leave. As soon as the curtain cut them off, Robert slouched his shoulders, leaning heavily against the dresser, his body limbless and his stomach in a complicated knot. He felt like he was going to be sick. His head was pulsing with waves of a migraine and his heart was pounding in his ears. It was like some cruel wind blew a heavy, charcoal cloud into his  
mental horizon, stealing his tiny patch of sunshine.

Robert felt sick to the stomach for his options. He could let it slide, but that was irresponsible. The man broke the military code of conduct, and he _must_ take responsibility for his actions. Robert didn't want to do it. If he had any other choice, he would use it. But the soldier, no matter of what race or color must be treated the same way as any other soldier (white, black, or even red) if he had run away. Robert watched his broken expression in the mirror. He hoped that reminding the man of slavery, through the use of his way of discipline, would not prove to be pointless.

* * *

I squinted my eyes in the dim light of the winter sun, rising silently over our heads. I was all but dancing on my tippy toes in a meager effort to see over Forbes's annoyingly high shoulders; it didn't pay to be the midget of the camp. Forbes looked as confused as I felt; his eyes scrutinizing the grim procession that was trudging slowly towards us. I tilted my head to the side, my mouth hanging open in an easy access for the flies.

Blinking, I resisted the urge to wave at the timid Shiloh, who was at the front of the line, thumping away expertly on his painted, flag-blue drum; but I grew immensely curious when I saw Trip limping behind him, an unusually somber Mulcahy and an overly aloof Charlie clutching solidly at his arms. Trip stumbled several times, and as soon as I shifted my gaze to his feet, I noticed a thin rope tied around his ankles, handcuffing them together. I left Forbes's side and filtered through the cracks in the tightly-packed crowd of men.

"Oh Lordy, this is bad." Jupiter drawled, momentarily abandoning his exaggerated stutter. "They ain't gonna s-shoot 'em is they?" False alarm, it's back. Jupiter crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows in horror; sending a glance to Snowflake, a question in his brown eyes.

"No." Thomas stated, following Jupiter to the front. His voice sounded _too_ sure, as if it was just a decoy that he was using to reassure himself. My suspicions were proven correct when he addressed Rawlins. "Won't it?" Rawlin's stare was split, broken with terror and worry for the boy that was young enough to be his son.

"Quiet in the ranks!" Andrew's annoyingly throaty, deep voice, which had an uncanny resemblance to Commodore Norrington, sharply broke the loud buzz of conversation. I wished so badly that I was the type of person who could spit some nasty response at him without getting in trouble. I so _want_ to be.

Charlie and Andrews dropped Trip's arms, leaving him up to Mulcahy; and filtered through the cracks in the crowd of men to help quiet them down. Mulcahy led the limping Trip to a broken wagon wheel hat was leaning heavily against a ramshackle wooden cart. Trip slouched in front of it, his eyes waxing down the wheel's dirty surface with mild interest. Two soldiers stood at attention at both sides of the wagon, waiting for orders. Mulcahy caught the eye of the one to his left and jerked his head at the ennui Trip.

"Untie his hands and take off his coat." He ordered, using his ever-present tone of authority. Both men immediately got to work on the thin, wiry rope that was scratching the sensitive skin of Trip's brown wrists.

Mulcahy approached the spot where I ditched Forbes, and I found that Robert had appeared as well, ghosting next to Forbes. The Irish sergeant held something behind his back. It was long, brown, and shiny, coiled up like a stinging, venomous snake that was poised and eager to strike. Mulch trudged slowly, his heavy footsteps sounded grim, in sync with the beating of Shiloh's sky blue drum.

I'm not as dumb as I look. I realized what was about to happen; and I felt sick. Remember back when I was boasting my resume to Robert's father about how I ain't afraid of nothin'? Particularly blood? Heh, biggest lie in the world. I could not stand seeing people get hurt, physically or emotionally. I'm the type of person who apologizes to a freaken' door if I accidentally run into it. And even though Trip was a jerk and a half, the Biff Tannen of my world, I felt very sorry for him. I didn't want to watch, so I left. But this isn't about me, it's about _him_.

* * *

Forbes's nerves were as raw as the meat in a butcher's window. His eyes were trapped on the older man that was approaching them; particularly the ugly object that he held coiled in his hand. The sergeant lifted it above his red-sashed waist, capturing more of Forbes's panicked attention. It was difficult for him to comprehend that Robert was possibly serious.

The major had been so sure of Robert's guidance, but as he stood next to his brave friend, Forbes began to doubt the colonel's leadership abilities. Were his naive hopes in vain? Forbes was furious with himself for being so blind, for not realizing that _this_ was the way it was done in the army. What made him think that his by-the-book friend would do anything differently? But for God's sake these were _darkies_! They might get the wrong message; there was no sense in showing the coloreds that they were slaves and always will be. Though they were fighting for freedom, they were no better off here than in the South. Forbes knew that those statements were certainly not true, but Robert made it look like it.

Maybe he could reason with Robert to think again. Sergeant Mulcahy raised his right hand in a half-hearted salute. Forbes's hand flew up automatically, subconsciously returning the military greeting, which had become more of a reflex rather than a voluntary action. He pointed incredulously at the whip, facing Robert who refused to look at him, guilt smeared across his face.

Forbes recoiled as the sergeant dangled the monstrous contortion away from his body. "The prisoner is in position, sir." He stated clearly, his eyes on Robert who managed to produce a quick, almost unaware nod.

Forbes gritted his teeth. He stabbed a finger at the 'discipline encourager'. "What is this?" He spat, though he was facing Mulcahy, his demanding 'question' was aimed at Robert. He knew precisely what it was. His curiosity was simply: what in God's name was he thinking?

Forbes stared at Robert with his mouth hanging open like a fly catcher. His best friend, as Forbes used to have known him, still refused to meet his gaze. Forbes decided to stick to his initial plan of persuading Robert, only partially aware of the explanation that Mulcahy was giving. "The prisoner is to be flogged before the entire regiment."

Forbes slowly lowered his still-suspended hand, speaking to his commanding officer urgently. "Robert, not with a whip." He reasoned, watching his friend's eyes dart back and forth, finally settling his attention to Forbes' argument. The major was glad to be getting somewhere. "Not on _them_."

At first the colonel said nothing, scrutinizing the major with calculating eyes. Forbes searched his face earnestly for any sign of Robert changing his stubborn mind. He raised an arm into the air again, elevating it until it was level with Robert's chest, in attempt to catch his attention. But Robert stared at his arm in such a way that made him feel like he was burning his skin with his eyes, searing right through his woolen coat. So Forbes retracted his hand and let it fall back to his side, giving the fact that he wanted to _keep_ that arm.

Finally, the man looked away, positioning his stare on Mulcahy. "Excuse us." He spoke in a solid tone that rebirthed Forbes' hope. "Sergeant Mulcahy." He added as an afterthought.

"At your pleasure, Colonel." The sergeant replied obediently. He saluted once more, shifting his body to stand at ease.

Robert turned away slowly, spinning on the heel of one muddy boot. Forbes watched his friend as he took several feebly-attempted footsteps ahead and away from the all-hearing ears of the strict, Sergeant Mulcahy. The major followed, pausing in front of the colonel and angling his body towards him, dipping his head lower so that his ear was at level with Robert's mouth. He waited patiently for an answer he did not expect.

"_Never_," Robert propelled the word with so much venom, Forbes nearly toppled down from surprise, "question my authority in front of others."

Nevertheless, Forbes stumbled back, his jaw scraping the ground in shock as if Robert had punched him with his fist. The major certainly felt that way, as he absentmindedly reached up to rub the imaginary pain in his jaw away. He blinked at Robert, who had finally turned to look at him, staring with a calm indifference. The major felt himself becoming transformed, his blue eyes darkening into an ebony shade of anger as he narrowed his gaze at Robert; his mind filled with nasty remarks and his mouth ready to launch them.

He crossed his arms over his chest, but then dropped them back to the seams of his trousers. He snorted at Robert, who watched him with raised eyebrows that only fueled Forbes' ultimate irritation. "Well I is sorry, Massa." Forbes spat, noticing Robert wince. Well if he was going to treat them like slaves, might as well treat him like the bloody owner. "You be the boss-man now and all us chilluns must learn your ways." He turned away, marching forward with his chin held high and his nose in the air.

But he knew Robert wasn't backing down from his teenage-like attitude. He could feel the man's eyes piercing his back like twin bullets. "MAJOR FORBES!" He had never heard his friend speak to him that way; and Forbes was surprised to find that Robert's shout had alarmed him. His body belonged to someone else as he followed the colonel's barking orders. "Stand at attention!" Forbes was left with no choice but to turn around and shut up. But he did it with 'flare', he spun quickly, stomping his foot down in defiance as he resumed a posture of utter attention.

Let him have his bloody way.

* * *

_Twenty flogs._

Twenty flogs was the standard army punishment for a deserter. Robert thought about shortening it somehow, maybe ordering it to ten. But this was the military, no other infantry would have done that; he couldn't either. He felt sick to his stomach, and at that moment he wished desperately that someone else was doing this job, someone with a more iron personality.

To make matters worse, Forbes was giving him problems. He was the major, and his best friend; who was supposed to be some help, not another person to criticize him. Though Robert understood Forbes's motivations and acknowledged that his outbursts were not too often; he had rather hoped at the beginning of this entire ordeal that Forbes would have handled the army more maturely.

Could the man not have sense enough to realize what a struggle this was _without_ his _charming_ disposition, as was current? Robert gritted his teeth, closing his eyes, only to open them half a second later. Forbes acted as if he _wanted_ to flog the man! If Robert had his way, the prisoner would have been pardoned. Colonel Robert Gould Shaw of the Fifty-Fourth Massachusetts was feeling bitter this morning due to the fact that the world seemed to be against him; and it did not help that Miss Janeiro was staring at him with those wide eyes of hers as if he was some sort of monster.

Robert began having second thoughts on why he took this job in the first place.

The colonel blinked wearily, turning away from the fuming, molested major, whose fists were quivering from irked anger. Robert had not slept much the other night, due to his brain's mind games of Miss Janeiro and the obese quartermaster's unmotivating 'no.' Robert clasped his black-leather gloved hands behind his back in attempt to keep them from shaking at the order he was about to give.

"Sergeant Mulcahy!" He called, trying to inject grace and authority that was stripped away by his almost-panic and unsureness.

The sergeant, on the other hand, turned out to be more help in the several minutes than Forbes was all day. He did not judge Robert, only calmly followed orders in a manner that could have hinted that he even agreed with him. On hearing Robert call his name, he straightened immediately out of his 'at-ease' posture, positioning himself to attention. That gesture granted Robert some much-needed encouragement.

Robert gave the man a couple small nods, his head bobbing up and down quickly several times as if he was trying to reassure _himself_ instead of permissioning Mulcahy. He had a strange taste in his mouth, bitter and sickly, like sawdust, and his vision was slightly blurry from the spinning sensation in his head. He cleared his throat. "You may commence."

Mulcahy strolled towards the grey-faced deserter, walking to him as if nothing in this world would bring him more pleasure. But Robert did not miss the fact that the sergeant's eyes also held a look of pity as well as disgust. The crowd was swept with a series of monosyllabic murmurs as Mulcahy reached for the collar of the prisoner's shirt, silencing the soldiers with the sound of the flimsy cotton being ripped apart.

Robert heard Forbes gasp behind him at the disastrous sight, feeling him wince along with the rest of the regiment that stared at the private's bare back. It was a tragic, horrible sight. Evidence of earlier beatings criss-crossed each other in several complicated patterns that made Robert's head spin. Glaring, dull redish-brown stripes weaved perverse designs on the young man's otherwise perfectly smooth, earth-brown skin. He lifted his head higher in proud defiance, watching Robert in a way that made him uncomfortable. The private threw off the remains of his shirt and it sailed into the air, floating gently into the squishy mud like a large, floppy snowflake.

Robert tried to force himself to appear unmoved, to stare at the man's ruined skin as if it was nothing more than frightening than a sheet of paper, but he failed. He could sense unwanted boyish fear filtering through the cracks of his adult exterior, and it did nothing to calm his nerves. He knew Forbes's horror, even Sergeant Mulcahy appeared remorseful, and Miss Janeiro was clutching at her stomach and breathing hard, as if she was going to be sick. Robert was powerless to do anything that might release their stress.

Mulcahy looked at him expectantly, and Robert found himself again. His mind registered the order that he was about to give, and remorse bit him, so sharply it stung. With one more deep breath, he issued it. "Proceed."

Mulcahy snapped into action, shoving the private's shoulder hard, instructing him to lean against the tremendous wagon wheel. The soldier's anger was not lost to Robert. He glared daggers at him, his protruding brown lips set tightly into a firm line. They remained this way for several seconds, while he watched his commanding officer as if he was nothing more than dirt; finally parting his lips and sending a gram of shiny saliva inches away from Robert's boots.

Sergeant Mulcahy must have noticed, for he unraveled the coiled whip loop with rapid succession, growing larger and longer as if it was a cobra that was just waking up from a deep slumber. He took one long stride back, purchasing a tight grip on the handle of the 'loyalty enforcer.' Robert closed his eyes, lowering his head while chewing mercilessly on his bottom lip.

_Smack!_

Robert all but shuddered, and out of the corner of one large, doe-brown eye, he noticed Forbes recoil sharply at the noise of the first strike. He snapped his eyes back at the private, searching for his reaction. It seemed not to have affected him at all, as if it was someone else being beaten. Robert was moved by his strong personality and steel character. Nineteen more strikes. Nineteen.

_Smack!_

The first sign of blood was hinting on the scars that Mulcahy was reopening with the whip. A soft whisper of wind blew the rusty, metallic scent of the bodily fluid forward; filling and stinging Robert's nostrils like a hornet. He bit down on his lip hard, only to discover that his teeth broke through the already chapped coat of his lips, bringing out beads of crimson blood of his own. A dark flash out of the right corner of his vision, and he followed it to see Miss Janeiro making her way through the crowd, further away from the sickening display. Eighteen.

_Smack!_

* * *

It took every ounce of self control that he possessed not to move. It was torture. It was pain. It was hell. But he would not give in to them. After all, was that not what they wanted? He would never surrender. He would endure the horrible, stinging sensation of his skin being ripped apart, but he would not give them an inch. Not only bloody inch. He would not even flinch. He refused to give them the satisfaction.

_Smack!_

It was the fourth strike, a cracking sound in the air as the leather flexed, followed by a crimson misery as it tore his back. Trip could do nothing but flinch, something he promised himself that he would never do. He focused a dead, murderous stare at the pretentious white colonel. _Beatin' on a nigger to make hisself feel strong_. He was right to spit on his shoe, though the saliva did not make it far.

_Smack!_

Trip was thrown off balance, and he ended up shifting forward more than he wanted. He caught his footing again and shifted his body weight. The pain was becoming almost unbearable, and to his horror, he could feel sticky, warm blood oozing from his open wounds, and it was almost too much. He sniffed back a runny nose, squaring his shoulders and bracing himself for the next burn of the rope.

_Smack!_

Trip watched the white colonel through tunneled vision, blocking everything else out. He was making a point with his eyes. Trip relished in the guilty look that lay in the eyes of the colonel. The stronger his glare, the more pain he produced from the colonel's expression. It was almost sickly amusing that he was the one being beaten, but by the way the boy acted,anyone could have sworn that the situation was opposite.

_Smack!_

Trip tried to take his mind off of his pain. But when one is in such deep agony, how is that possible? Trip forced his entire being to block his senses. He was living in his head. He was far away, his blurring vision providing a curtain of tears that shielded him from the rest of the world. He thought of dusty, old memories that were hidden deep in his mind's heart, covered with layers of pain.

_Smack!_

The first person he saw in his memories was his mother. She wore a simple calico dress, and the gentle breeze ruffled her thick brown hair as it filtered through one of the cotton plantation in Tennessee. Trip had always thought his mother was fit to be a queen, and she laughed when he had told her that, probably at the irony of her being the complete opposite. She was only another slave.

But she wasn't just a common slave. She did not work in the fields like the rest of them did. She was a house servant. She was also a chambermaid, but in the most literal sense possible. She was their master's mistress, who was extremely fond of her since the day he had purchased her from a slave auction in Texas. For all Trip knew, being the little boy that he was back then, she must have become attached to him as well.

_Smack!_

Their master had bought his father as well, one who ended up running away and leaving his kin. But his mother, his older sister, and he as well, never had to work very hard. They were left to do the simple tasks around the house, such as dusting the banisters and organizing the books in the library. Completely simple. The three of them were remarkably lucky compared to the others, who sneered at them for their fortune. The others had to prick their already cracked fingers every day picking cotton, working under the blistering Southern sun.

_Smack!_

Their master was an honorable man, extremely kind, and the only white folk that Trip would toss a dime at. He treated his mother with respect, as if she was white, and though he did not know at the time: why his mother was occasionally summoned to the mansion at night, but she never acted insulted when she returned in the morning. But there was a cloud in Trip's sunny sky. A cloud resembling the horrible son of the master.

_Smack!_

He was older than Trip by eight years; and he was spoiled and conceited, sneering at Trip whenever the two happened to cross paths with each other on the vast plantation. His name was Royce, and he hated Trip's mother and him with an astonishing passion. Trip never understood why, but the young man did everything to make him miserable, ever since Trip learned to walk.

He asked his mother about it one night, and she explained that when Royce was very young, his mother had met her maker through the difficult path of tuberculosis, and he probably felt that his father was replacing her with him. After her story, Trip almost felt guilty for hating the boy back, and he even pitied him, for he knew that it would have been awful beyond words if _his_ mother was taken away from _him_.

_Smack!_

When Trip reached the round, double-digit age of ten, his world began to crumble, piece by piece; his life was chipped off from his block of joyful sunshine, spiraling down into a murky abyss. Happiness began to end from there. That winter, the Massa died after spending two weeks on his deathbed, Trip's mother clutching his hand. He was fifty eight years old, dead from the killer influenza.

It all rolled further downhill from there. His son Royce had inherited his fortune, and gained rein as the ruler of the entire plantation. Trip heard Royce promise to his father that he would treat the plantation, and those who worked it, with a firm hand, but also with an understanding fairness. Royce had certainly ruled the plantation with a firm hand, but fairness flew out the window.

Trip and his mother, along with his older sister, were thrown out of their comfortable life in the mansion, and made to work outside in the hot sun all day. They had not grown accustomed to it, and the first weeks were an intense struggle. They proved to be too much for an older woman like his mother, and she died from heatstroke at the middle age of forty three.

_Smack!_

Royce started hiring more overseers, ordering them to drive the slaves thrice as hard as they worked under his father's ownership. He instructed them to show the slaves the consequences if one of them dared to fall out of line, or did not pick their weight in cotton by the end of the week. Royce's plans had worked. He got richer, but his slaves got poorer.

Royce taught them the true meaning of slavery.

_Smack!_

One day, two weeks after Trip turned twelve, Royce went too far. Trip's older sister Cassie had just turned to the ripe age of seventeen, and she was a true beauty; having a dangerous, secret romance with one of the cotton pickers in the plantation parallel to the one they lived in. They were to get married, if only a simple ceremony. One of the few slaves who were illegally able to understand the markings in the Bible, would slowly read their marriage vows while the couple held hands and leapt together over a broom.

Trip knew that his sister Cassie belonged to her love, Clive.

But Royce had his eye on her for a long time, ever since she hit the tender age of thirteen, and her adolescent stick-figure blossomed into womanly swells and curves. He must have had it in mind to steal her innocence, something that did not belong to him; for on the summer that she turned seventeen, Royce persuaded her into the barn. Alone.

_Smack!_

Trip's muscles ripped with anger and he gritted his teeth. It was luck that he heard his sister's shouts and her desperate pleas. A rush of adrenaline drove him forward, and Trip rushed to the side of the barn, instinctively searching for a weapon. The only thing he found was a muddy, metal shovel that he could barely lift, but it would have to do.

At that time, Trip could barely understand what was happening. His sister was in tears, and the stomach-churning sound of fabric ripping filled the empty spaces of the barn. Royce's mouth was crushing against hers, and his hands were rudely at her waist. She fought him and beat his chest with her fists, but the twenty-year-old would not be moved.

Trip was no longer driven by fear, he was driven by anger. Someone was hurting his sister, and even if it was a grow man versus a young boy, he would take that path if it would make his sister feel better. Trip approached behind Royce quietly, and raising his shovel into the air, he swung with all his might, slamming into him; painfully in the back.

_Smack!_

Royce released Cassie, and staggered back in surprise, clutching his back and moaning. Trip had hit him mighty hard for someone as young in age as he was. The young master gritted his teeth, his eyes were ablaze and his nostrils flaring. His anger was so strong it terrified Trip, and he felt his knees buckle. He threw back his head and screamed at his sister to run, and she did.

Off of the plantation, and out of Tennessee. She had eloped with her fiancé Clive, and the last he heard of her, was from an old black man that lived on Clive's plantation. He explained to him that she was able to escape this suffering with the assistance of the 'Moses.' Trip was intrigued, he had heard of her. Harriet something-or-the-other, a legend between slaves.

He knew for a fact that with 'the Moses', Clive and Cassie had made it to Canada.

To freedom.

_Smack!_

Bu Royce was not happy. He was angry and insulted; and a wounded predator is much more dangerous than a healthy one. He dragged Trip by his short hair to a wooden post that held the barn up, and tied his wrists securely around the wooden seam, just like handcuffs. Trip began to tremble with fear when he realized what the man was about to do.

He did not see it, but he heard it and felt it. Royce was shouting profanities at him, injecting his anger into Trip's punishment, beating him with a whip meant for cattle. Trip clenched his teeth and screamed as the leather tore his skin away from his bones; cracking it and making it bleed. He had lost track of how many lashes Royce had so generously bestowed at him, but finally the ropes around his wrists were cut, and he drifted to the hay covered floor, weeping from the pain, until a house mammy came to nurse his wounds.

Trip had never felt so alone.

_Smack!_

Trip was moved by another crack of the whip, and he was brought back once more to reality. He listened to the snap of the leather, the hushed murmurs of his fellow soldiers, and watched the agonized expression of the young white colonel. Trip was misanthropic, and refused to believe that the colonel was feeling remorse and pity for him. No, that was not possible.

Inwardly, he was hurt, and he was suffering. But on the outside, he remained an unmoving tower of strength, a mighty mountain that never bows to the howling wind. But even a mountain can be moved and damaged by a rockslide, or an avalanche; and Trip knew it. He felt that avalanche eroding his mountain, he was stripped of his pride, and he was humiliated. His body and mind were slipping away with every stroke of Mulcahy's leather whip. It was a feeling of hopelessness, of destruction. His entire being felt evanescence, an unshakeable feeling of self-destruction as his walls crumbled down, destroyed by an emotional avalanche.

A watery tear spilled over the brink of his lower eyelid, leaving a salty trail as it slid down his cheek.

_Smack!_

* * *

Robert cringed, and he continued to do so while he counted how many strokes that the man was left to endure. He felt pain, it was mental, of course, but it was so strong that Robert almost felt it physically. With every stroke his back had a stinging sensation as if he too was going through a beating. He pitied the man, and was horrified when he saw the tear breaking through his rough exterior.

_Smack!_

To his utter terror, when the last stroke was finally delivered by Mulcahy, the private began to shake and tremble. Suddenly, his eyes grew even more watery, and his head rolled back. He slumped against the wheel, an exhausted, bloody heap of a human being. Robert planted his feet down firmly to keep himself from rushing to assist the man back up. It was not allowed for someone as high up in rank as he was. It was a ridiculous rule, but he was here to enforce them all.

Several corporals, Mulcahy, and Charlie as well, approached the man, lifting him up by the under arms and dragging him off towards the medical tent, a grimacing Andrews following suit, digging though his pockets for his spectacles in a manner of action that looked as if he was about to conduct surgery. By the ripped mess of the black man's back, it was evident that he would need doctoring.

He was lost in a train of thought, until Forbes cleared his throat, bringing him to look at his regiment of stunned troops, awaiting his next command. "D-dismissed!" Robert stuttered. It was now lunch time, but he doubted anyone would feel like eating after what they just witnessed.

The parade grounds cleared out quickly, and when Robert turned around, he acknowledged that Forbes had left wordlessly as well. Robert was free. Robert could take off his mask now. _Robert felt sick_. He rushed hurriedly towards his room in the barracks across camp, power walking instead of running so as not to appear conspicuous.

He stumbled into his room, ripping the curtain out of the way, and then sliding it back to cover the doorway as he entered, oblivious to the crack of open space he left, only closing his doorway about three quarters of the way. Robert felt like he was about to vomit, his thoughts trailing back to the bleeding private. He never wanted to do anything like that again. He sunk to his knees in front of the washbowl, the same place he was in such a good mood this morning.

The young colonel stared at the washbowl, beads of sweat appeared over his eyebrows, and he dragged a coat sleeve over his forehead to get rid of them. The nausea subsided, and the young man felt a trifle better, if not stronger. He leaned heavily against his bed, not bothering to sit up from the floor. He let his head rest on the hard mattress, staring at the dirty ceiling, and listening to his own heartbeat accompanied by his shallow, rapid breathing.

There was a knock on his doorframe, and it cleared the fogginess in his brain. He did not have time to call out, as the curtain was pulled out of the way, revealing Miss Janeiro; watching him with concern and pity he felt that he did not deserve. She took in the wreckage of him, and it looked like she understood. She took a tiny, hesitant step inside.

"Sir?" She spoke softly, as if volume would hurt his ears. "Are you all right?"

**You know this was equivalent to eight pages on Microsoft. That is exactly 8,000 words. Wow, I impressed myself. :)**

**Please, please, tell me if you hate it or like it. This is such an important scene and so hard to right. Anxiously awaiting your valued opinions.**


	33. This Means War

**Oh gosh, you don't know how much I love the weekend. :)**** Tell me whatcha think. ;)**

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**Smartyjonescrzy**: Don't worry about it, you did not step out of my 'little circle' of Glory buddies at all. I'm so glad that Trip's back story was not too anti-south, I was really worried about it taking that direction. You mentioned that you wrote a whipping scene as well, if it's on fanfiction I would love to read it. :)

**HeartlessVampireGirl**: Oh, they still have a few bumps on their rode to…er…togetherness.

**Beagle Bug**: It's down the road. :) I mean our darling Robert did not even admit 'his undying love for her' to himself yet, let alone to 'Miss Janeiro.' :)

**BK Love-ah**: Thank you so much, I tried not to over-do-it, but for a crazy writer like me…that gets a little…hard. :)

**Otose**: I know exactly how you feel. Speaking of fanfiction…where's Natalie and Janet? Your faithful readers are hanging on a hook. :)

**CarminexBuranax**: I hope that the following Rolex moment will be one of the good ones that I 'mustered' throughout the story. :) By the way, he wasn't singing to himself, he was mentally humming. You know how it is. (Kiara certainly knows with the mental music you've got going.) :)Nah, this was just to demonstrate that he was in a good mood this morning, and not that he thought he was the cute guy we all know him to be. :)

**Dress4m**: I noticed how a lot of people hate hangovers, even I do, but yet I love to use them, lol. :) Yes, the Civil War destroyed many lives with cruelty. :)

**YarisVamp**: *Gasp* psychic! Lol.

**IceDragonHikari**: I know right, it made me like Trip a little more…

**Samantha Story**: Yay! I'm glad you're back. Don't cry, even though that was such an ego booster for me that you thought it was that good, lol. :)

**Jazzmonsterr**: I know right! The Ralex thing, I've noticed that. :) Our little inside joke, lol.

**GDgirl1993**: Thank you so much! I love it when more and more people find this. :)

* * *

I wasn't sure what exactly I was doing here, or why I had even come here in the first place. I felt deeply sympathetic towards Trip, seeing the poor man bleed was so awful; and I also noticed how Robert's face had twisted in pain, deep remorse, and self disgust. He was drowning in it, and I saw how sick he looked, dashing into his room, as if the walls of his mind were caving in on him. I was trying to rescue him; though success would be difficult to reach.

I lingered in the doorway, unsure of what I was supposed to do in order to succeed in reaching my goal of rescuing Robert. He looked defeated, slumping there on the floor with his probably sore back leaning against the bunk of his bed. His kepi was gone, discarded on the mattress, revealing his thick brown hair, which was tousled and protruding in every direction, but not as crazy as Edward Scissorhands'.

I had asked him if he was alright, but so far I was not receiving any response, and the moment was growing more and more awkward. He just stared up at me with those wise, beautiful brown eyes, which had clouded with sadness and worry. My own eyes darted back and forth around the room not sure where to settle themselves down, for I could certainly not hold his gaze. They overpowered me. I cleared my throat.

Robert seemed to wake up at that moment, propelling his body from the floor until he was back to his towering form. He stifled a yawn. "Excuse me." And as an afterthought, he finally answered my question. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

Of course, an awkward silence _must _follow; as I stand there and he stares at me, probably waiting for me to leave. But I just don't quit with tactics that don't work. "So, what's up?"

Robert stares at me for a moment like I'm insane. Oh, the straitjacket is waiting. Then he looks away, pinching the much-abused bridge of his nose. He heaves out an irritated sigh that scares me. "Miss Janeiro, I'm hardly in the mood for jokes, so if you would please evacuate this room along with your immature pretentions, I would be most grateful."

My face colors. That was not what I meant. His words burn and I wince slightly. To tell you the truth, that kind of hurt my feelings. How am I supposed to talk to a boy without sounding like the village idiot? To make up for it, I try being helpful. "Could I get you s-something, Sir?" Word vomit.

I just don't want him to sting me anymore, the humiliation hurts like bullets. But to my surprise, he actually smiles a little, just a hint of it that touches his lips but doesn't reach his eyes. Unfortunately, it disappears like lightning. That smile transforms me. What the hell is that supposed to make me think? First he disses me and now he-"No, thank you. I'm alright."

Terrible liar. I almost consider saying that out loud."I'll go get you some coffee." I blurt quickly, as an excuse to leave the room by choice instead of him kicking me out, backing slowly out of his room with my wounded pride; stubbing my foot along the way, against the doorway, and hoping that he wouldn't notice.

I'm gone before he can object.

Maybe I'll run in to Forbes so I can vent to him about his bipolar friend.

* * *

Robert feels like dirt, as he stares at the door with both eyes wide open. Another lovely thing to add to his heavy conscience. He did not mean to say that, truly, all this stress was turning him into a monster. He wished he could turn back time and respond appropriately, not by snapping at the poor girl. He shakes his head, unfortunately time travel is impossible. (A/N Show's how little he knows, eh?)

He would certainly have to apologize, something Robert was not looking forward to. It was his own fault for placing himself in such an awkward position, but the long morning on top of his anxiety caused him to believe that she was mocking him for a moment. He felt like a fool. He was no gentleman. Then again, she certainly wasn't a dainty lady either. She acted like she was from a different place, and amidst the proper young ladies that he knew back home, she was like something out of a Jules Verne book.

Unfortunately for him, that moment when he would 'plead for her forgiveness' arrived all too soon, and she slipped in so quietly that he barely noticed her come in, until the clanking of the coffee cup drew his attention away from the dirty window, streaked with old rain residue. She set the cup down on his desk in a hostile fashion, and quickly scurried away from his room; probably not wanting him to honor her with his currently 'pleasant demeanor'; Robert thought bitterly of himself. He stopped her before she could leave.

"Miss Janeiro!" He called out. The colonel reached out as well, but he did not touch her.

She stopped abruptly, as if Robert's voice had paralyzed her legs. She turned around slowly, folding her arms across her chest in a defensive tone of body language. "Yes?"

Robert swallowed; he was never much articulate around women, only with ink and paper. "Thank you, for the coffee." He told her uncomfortably, but somehow it had not come out the way he planned it to.

She nodded, saluting him. "Excuse me." She replied, waiting for him to dismiss her.

But he didn't.

Instead, he stood up from his desk chair, walking around it to come stand in front of her. She did not move away, but she did not look at him either.

"Miss Janeiro." He spoke his words gently, but she still would not look at him.

Robert hesitated to do something which he considered quiet bold, something he would not even _think_ of doing to any other woman back home. He bit his bottom lip, a habit he usually did during difficult situations, and momentarily ignored the boundaries of propriety. He reached out slowly with his right hand, and put it under her chin, raising her face to look at him using one, gloved finger. When her blue eyes met his brown ones, she looked every bit as surprised as he felt.

The moment was spent in silence; both were in speechless awe, unable to stop staring into each other, losing themselves in their own personal thoughts. Robert forgot about having his hand where it was, but it was the first time he felt something moving him when he touched her. For that moment, his problems faded away, and propriety ceased to exist. She watched him through her sooty eyelashes, her expression both bewildered and intrigued as she waited for him to speak.

It was a beautiful moment, and all Robert could do was to think of that word. "I'm sorry." He whispered plainly, but in a way that suggested he meant more than what he said. He shocked himself as well as her, but his actions were decided not by thought, but by emotion. Nevertheless, Miss Janeiro watched him speechlessly, as if he was the most amazing creature she had ever known.

* * *

"Ahem." It was an exaggerated sound, delivered more like a word than the actual clearing of the throat.

The following moment was chaotic. Robert found himself fearing for the reputation of both himself and especially Miss Janeiro's. His hand was ripped away from her chin, pinning themselves to his sides, as he marched an entire yard away from her. She seemed to understand, and her eyes told him that he was more than forgiven. Both flushed a deep crimson as they turned to face the intruder.

Forbes was so amused that he almost forgot why he was storming into Robert's office, to talk some bloody sense into him, because in his honest opinion, the man was acting like an imbecile, and he wished to set him straight again. Evidently, all that slipped his mind-like a child that forgets its tears when a piece of candy is waved before it's eyes-as he observed the peculiar scene before him.

They stood together like criminals under the bright lantern of a policeman, squinting at him sheepishly, probably wondering how much he had seen. Forbes stifled a laugh, leaning in the door way, his head cocked to the right and an indecent smirk replacing the tight line that once held claim of his mouth. The way they stood as far as possible from each other, their eyes lowered to their muddy shoes, faces flushed awkwardly in both thrill and shame; it looked like one had stolen the goat and the other sold it.

The major forced himself to remain composed, pressing his lips together and biting down laughter. His eyes watered, residue of his amusement escaping his body. Forbes realized, as he watched the horrified Robert and the cringing Alex, that currently he had an extreme amount of power over them. But Forbes was not much of a manipulator; he did not care for it nor was it a character trait.

But he was a major tease. Ever since they were carefree children, playing Cowboys and Indians, he always forced Robert to be the Indian, which greatly limited his 'weapons', but the sly boy ended up winning anyways. But whenever _Forbes_ had won, well, poor Robert would never hear the end of it. But Forbes preferred to believe that he had matured since then, swallowing his sickly-sweet jokes and clearing his face of all emotion, as if he was totally oblivious of how close they were.

So he said the first thing that came to mind. "Sir!" You would be so proud of him, he _even_ saluted.

Robert had recovered some of the ground he had lost, responding to Forbes's greeting with his own salute. "Yes, Major?" His voice was strained and shaky, but his eyes held a silent 'thank you.'

Not to be arrogant or anything, but Forbes was the epitome of the perfect friend. But he _did_ have trouble perfecting his bluff. "Lieutenant Andrews requested the assistance Miss Janeiro in the medical unit." He glanced at her for affect, amused at the downing result the word 'Andrews' had on her. She looked like she was finding that difficult to believe. But never mind _her_.

Robert swallowed, nodding frequently as he reluctantly angled his body towards Miss Janeiro, and Forbes noticed Robert staring just above her head, as if he had trouble looking her in the eye. "Dismissed."

She nodded wordlessly, and slowly left his side, following Forbes out of his room.

* * *

I feel good!

Duh-na-na-na-na-na-na!

I knew that I would…

Duh-na-na-na-na-na-na!

Talk about cloud nine. It was really simple, and more than likely meant nothing to him at all, but I was walking on sunshine. Even though the sun is in Australia right now and it's dark in the land of the free and the home of the brave. Ah, bursted my own bubble. Actually, that was a very interesting experience, and I have a herd of butterflies tickling the insides of my stomach. Giggle Giggle. I had never felt so giddy, and I felt so happy. Is this how you're supposed to feel when the guy you liked just…poor Forbes looks very scared. He probably thinks I've been snorting happy dust, unless drugs don't exist yet.

Did you know they used marijuana for rope back then…er…right now?

Forbes leaned forward, blinking at me incredulously. "What did you say?"

I winced. I have a miraculous talent of blurring what's real and what's in my mind together. "Is there any chance you could ignore what I just said?" I asked, biting my lip.

Forbes smiled softly into the night air. "What are friends for?"

"I feel so excited." I murmured, turning my booming mood down a notch.

"Really?" Forbes smirked, winking at me. "I can't imagine why." He chuckled softly into the starry night.

I hit him in the stomach. "Whatever."

Forbes arched an eyebrow. "You are very strange, Alex."

But then it got awkward, because I'm the screw-up fairy. "Um…thanks for not saying anything…in front of Robert…I mean…you know…"

Forbes stopped abruptly, turning his body to face me. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gave me a smile that was free of his usual, cheerful mockery. "You're welcome."

Forbes resumed marching again; he was probably so used to by now that it he did not even realize what he was doing. My Major avoided eye contact with me the rest of the way, staring straight ahead towards his destination, a tent that was glowing a spooky yellow in the far distance. Oh, joy, the _medical_ tent. I can't wait to see the wounds so I can get nauseated again. My 'high spirits' plunged down like Splash Mountain at Disneyland. Trip had to be in there. Andrews as well.

We neared the tent and I almost ran into the guard. Turns out, it was Rawlins. Eh, yo Rawlins! My home-skillet-biscuit wassup? "Hello Mr. Rawlins."

He smiled at me, saluting to Forbes's likewise and silent greeting. "Miss Janeiro."

I only talked to him once, but we were homies, being formal only in front of the 'suits.'

I had a queasy sensation in my stomach and the butterflies inside me turned into ugly, fat moths. What a lovely picture. I hoped that Forbes would go in first, but unfortunately he picked that very moment to demonstrate his chivalry. He pulled the flap of the tent open and waited. He can keep waiting. But my friend cleared his throat, and I could no longer stand my ground. With a pout, I stepped in first.

Though the lamp was about as bright as a sucky iPod, it made me blink when it first hit my eyes. Andrews was muttering something to a soldier that looked about Robert's (sigh) age, waving a wad of bandages in his right hand. The room felt hot and stuffy, like the bloody rainforest, and a hoarse, dragon-like sound filled the air. Finally, when I swept my gaze to the medical bunk, the patient broke my heart.

Trip looked like someone chewed him up and spit him back out. His ragged breathing was so loud that it vibrated in my ears, his chest heaving with labor every time he inhaled. His eyes were swollen shut, and he looked like there wasn't enough money in the world that would make him open them again. He was shirtless, lying face down on his stomach, his back looking like brown construction paper that some kindergarten drew hundreds of squiggly lines on with a red marker.

There was another clearing of the throat, and I turned my eyes to Andrews, who glared at me with so much disgust I had to look away. Such a hater, honestly. I listened to him as he addressed Forbes. "Sir, I really must object. This is no tent for a woman."

Forbes sounded calm and collected, but behind the lines I could sense annoyance. "I will be leaving 'the woman' in your care. Colonel Shaw himself approved of it. If you have any problems at all, you can take it up with him. I would advise you not to, if you value your current position."

_Burned_ him! I love you, Forbes!

Fearlessly, I raised my eyes from my shoes to catch Andrews's priceless expression.

Again, I _love_ Forbes.

Andrews was fuming, his large hands balled up into even larger fists. He gave Forbes a tight-lipped smile. "Yes, of course."

Forbes nodded, smirking a little in satisfaction. He saluted. "Good night, Lieutenant."

No! Forbes! Don't leave me! I can't stick up for myself! He's going to eat me! Forbeeessss! "Bye, Forbes!"

Andrews actually _shuddered_ in disgust, dropping his saluting arm. "Good night, Major Forbes."

As soon as he left, Andrews cracked the whip and got down to business. He plopped me on a crate next to Trip's bedside, shoving a big bowl of icy water into my lap and tossing a dirty, linen towel in to my hand. He instructed me to make sure that the towel was always cold, wiping away the sweat of Trip's brow. It was a fairly easy job, but it was awful.

Poor Trip barely noticed me, forcefully opening one eye and seeing right through me, before letting the eyelid drop shut again. His forehead was very hot, and he occasionally shivered. I wished Marty had given me some Nyquil or Tylenol that I could give to him, heck I'd even take Aspirin. Don't give up hope that quickly, Alex. Maybe, he left some in your bag, just maybe.

Fat chance. The moment I raised my butt an inch off of the crate, Andrews put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down. Fine, be that way. In the future I'd probably make a better doctor than you, you big hater. I was so tired and irritated that when I raised my arms to stretch them out, I ended up smacking somebody in the face.

"I'm sor-" I turned to apologize, twisting around in my seat. But it was only Andrews, no one of importance; so I let the fragment of my apology hang in the air as he waited for it to come out. Fat chance, buddy boy.

This is too entertaining; maybe I should 'stretch' again.

* * *

Robert stood alone in the darkness of his room, gazing up at the night sky through his window. The crescent moon and the diamond stars glittered and danced magically, reflecting in his brown eyes. He folded his arms over his chest, barely noticing that he was alone in the dark with all of those thoughts bouncing around inside his head.

The day had been confusing, to say the least; he thought, rubbing the back of his neck. It started off staggeringly well in the morning, but dropped like a rock when the deserter had been punished, then it elevated into a straight line after he yelled at Miss Janeiro (something he still felt awful for) and now it dropped down to the sea floor again.

He sighed loudly, only _then_ noticing that he could not see a damned thing. Frowning, he fumbled his way towards his own desk, testing his footing before taking the step, his feet providing sight that his eyes could not at the moment. The hard part was finding his box of matches among the 'mess' on his own desk. Triumph occurred when his fingertips scraped against the box, sliding it open and fishing one wooden stick out.

Finding the gas lamp was almost easy, it hung from the ceiling and the moonlight reflected itself against the glass. Unfortunately, Robert did not see it, and ended up walking into it. He did not wince, but he rubbed his forehead, irritated with the bloody gas lamp. That was just what he needed right now. A perfect way to end the perfect day. Maybe if he was lucky, he would even have a bruise tomorrow. Oh the joy that poured from his heart.

Robert snorted. Reaching down, he swiped the match against the side of his boot, watching the flame come to life, quickly bringing it up to the entrance of the gas lamp before the chilly whispers of wind blew the measly spark out. With a soft blow, the gas lamp burst with light, pouring a soft glow into every dark corner of his small room, tinting everything a buttery yellow.

He trudged to his small bed, collapsing on it and sighing deeply. Even that took effort. He hoped that the private he had so mercilessly beaten was all right. Robert desperately wished that the man understood that he didn't want to do it, but he had no other choice. Robert knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep without at least seeing how he was holding up.

Robert felt so alone. When Miss Janeiro was here, she had soothed him a little, but after she left with Forbes, she took that peace with her, leaving Robert alone to wallow in his confusion and guilt. There were times when he wondered if he was right to take this job. Maybe it should have been someone older, wiser, and much more experienced. Someone with better leadership skills.

He wished his father was here. He was desperate for someone smarter to speak with. He found it so frustrating when he did not know what to do. It was an awful feeling, and he yearned for his father's wisdom and council. _He_ would know what to do. He was the type of person who had an answer to everything. Robert had written him another letter, the fourth one this week, but he could not wait that long for his reply to come or he would go insane.

There had to be someone else in this Godforsaken camp. Forbes might have been asleep already; besides, he probably wouldn't understand his burden. Charlie went to bed an hour ago. Sergeant Mulcahy…Robert snorted, his own mind was developing a special sense of humor. Miss Janeiro…out of the question. Thomas…good Lord he probably hated him. There was only one other man he could think of, but after what Robert did today to his tent mate, he doubted that the man would want speak with him. Robert himself could barely stomach the sight of his own reflection in the mirror.

He rubbed his temples in small, clockwise circles, drawing another deep breath and relishing in the sensation of the fresh oxygen that filled his lungs. Yes, it had been a long day. Yes, he was cruel today. Yes, he was a lost, wandering lunatic. Yes, he was remorseful. Yes, he hated himself for it. Yes, he had yelled at Miss Janeiro. Yes, he had no right. Yes, he was no gentleman. And yes:

He was in love with her.

* * *

Rawlins continued to stare straight ahead, but he could detect a slight movement from of the corner of one weathered eye. He glanced around slowly, disinterestedly, expecting to find another private running about, wrapped in a frazzled, woolen blanket. To his surprise, he was almost shocked to see that it was the colonel approaching him, his face marble and grim, shoulders slouched, and feet trudging through the half-frozen ground.

It was different from his usual, proud, elegant stride, this time he seemed worried and confused, with a pinch of fear dwelling behind his glossy eyes. Rawlins almost pitied him. Even though he was not fond of the way Trip paid for supposed 'deserting', he agreed that the man must be punished for his actions, because he was warned several times of the military consequences.

The old man did not show any evidence that he had seen the colonel, he simply remained at his post. The younger man paused in front of him, raising his arm slowly in a halfhearted salute. "Mr. Rawlins."

Rawlins barely acknowledged him, raising his arm in an automatic greeting, before letting it drop limply at his side. His curiosity had reached its peak, but his face was still adorned with the same ennui expression. The younger officer looked more than embarrassed, uneasily stumbling over his tongue in search for the right words.

"This morning I-I." He started off with the tone of an apology, but his voice broke off and spiraled down as he tried to rebound for it by inhaling deeply. Rawlins softened a bit, finding the proud, white colonel to be a simple boy with a job too big for his age. Rawlins thought he looked lonely, and even a bit depressed, and his eyes were holding an expression that looked like he had an army in front of him instead of behind him.

The poor boy abandoned his prime approach, choosing a different path as he changed his tone from remorse to one that hinted desperation. "It would be a great help," he paused to chew some more on his bottom lip, "if I could speak to you about the men from time to time."

Rawlins squatted his neck to keep it from shaking his head, but otherwise, his face held no emotion and his body language showed no sign that he had even heard him. But Rawlins was a compassionate man-he had to be, it was what kept him strong for all the years he had been separated from his family ever since he ran away-but he still kept his true feelings at bay.

The sergeant-major-to-be was no fool, he could hear the desperate plea in Shaw's voice and Rawlins was reminded once again of his own children. How he missed them. He felt that he had to say something comforting to the boy, who was seeking understandment. Perhaps, someone in the south will understand his children if they ever need help, maybe helping this confused child would be like helping his own. Unfortunately, he took too long to reply, and the younger male interpreted incorrectly.

Colonel Shaw's face fell, and he held a broken, let-down expression in his eyes. "That's all." He mumbled softly, disappointed, turning slowly away from Rawlins with his head hanging in shame and loneliness.

"Shoes, Colonel!" He called out suddenly, watching him stop in his tracks. The young man, intrigued, turned around slowly with a look of puzzlement painted with emotional ink across his face. Rawlins tried to get through to him. "The men need shoes, Colonel."

Shaw's eyes lit up in a comprehending manner. "I know." He nodded quickly, almost eagerly. "I've been after the quartermaster for some time."

Rawlins shook his head sharply, but the colonel barely noticed. "Now, sir." He reasoned. "Now." He sighed, slightly hesitant to reveal the truth about Trip. "The boy was off tryin' to find hisself some shoes, Colonel."

The young man gaped at him, too stunned to speak.

"He wants to fight." Rawlins continued. "Same as the rest of us." He added a quick afterthought of Trip's bitter thoughts of hatred and anger. Of freedom. "More, even."

* * *

A whisper of wind would have knocked Robert down. He gaped at the wise, older man in astonishment, too stunned to speak. That was another wonderful thing to add to his conscious. The boy was not guilty. He had beaten him for a crime he did not commit. The colonel was in shock, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as the old man pulled open the tent flap and motioned for him to step inside.

His eyes swept over Miss Janeiro, who was half-asleep at her 'post', and then traced his gaze to the beaten private wasted on the bed. Guilt and remorse. Guilt and Remorse. Guilt, remorse, and Robert. They all had the same meanings. He ripped his gaze off of the broken man's scarred back, waiting in silence as Rawlins gently lifted one of the so-called deserter's hole-filled shoe off of his foot.

Robert drew in a sharp breath. The exposed foot was a terrible sight. It looked worse than the man's back. His foot barely looked like a foot, bright red and covered with dry blood. It was craggy and possessed a tiny evidence of frostbite. Some parts were black and charred, dirty with mud and raw from the cheap leather. Robert struggled to keep himself calm and composed, but inwardly he was a time bomb just waiting to explode.

Guilt and remorse were driven out by anger. He had never felt so furious in his entire life. The government was not giving them shoes. They were soldiers, men with families, _Americans_, but they were deprived of everything. Robert literally felt his fists quake in fury. He felt his regiment was molested, and the only way he could think of reaching the quartermaster was to fight fire with fire.

He swallowed his spitfire words, like knives that were being sharpened specifically for the fat quartermaster, and looked up at Rawlins. "All of the men like this?" He questioned, jerking his head at the wounded private, and struggling not to tent his voice with his rage.

Rawlins shook his head sadly. "Yes, sir. Most of them."

There was a small growl in the back of his throat, and Robert felt that if he did not step outside then it would burst out. How dare those men start wars, end wars, and control the lives of people as if they were nothing more than cattle? Robert gritted his teeth and his breathing sounded like that of a wounded, fire-breathing dragon. He would get what they need even if it started another fight. His fists were so tight and shaking that his knuckles turned white. He swore at the quartermaster.

This meant war.

* * *

**Going to sleep. Zzzzz. Review please. ****J**


	34. Ego

**I've totally been on a Glory track lately, lol, I'm just so obsessed with them one shots, and updating-ness. ;)**

**Not very proud of this, it could have been better, but I am on my deathbed right now from the flu and will die in ten minutes unless my brother doesn't hurry up and come back from Target with the damn Tylenol. :D**

**Cough. Cough. Sniff. Sniff.**

**Review please.**

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**HeartlessVampireGirl**: This chapter will answer our question. ;) But if you g on YouTube and type in Glory 1989 part 1, you can totally watch the entire thing there. Trust me, it's well worth the two hours of your life. ;)

**CarminaxBuranax**: Weird, I just copy and pasted…oh well, sorry about that. ;) Thank you! Speaking of updating, when shall we hear more from the charming Kiara? ;)

**Beagle Bug**: Lol, I know this is a little late to say, but Good Luck anyway. ;)

**Dress4m**: Lol, thanks. I tried not to step in 'Corny Land' but in the end it kind of worked, eh? ;)

**Smartyjonescrzy**: I know what you mean, to overly mushy and lovesick is annoying but sometimes it's hard not to go there lol. By the way, awkward moment. I'm reading GWTW for Reading Appreciation Elective, and a few pages ago it said something about Scarlett being proud of Gerald because he met the Yankees like 'there was an army behind him instead of in front of him.' It's reversed, but dammit, I thought it was original, lol.

**Otose**: Hehee, thank you, but it did get kind of corny in the Ralex scene; I just could not help it, lol.

**BK Love-ah**: I know, the first time I watched that part I just gawked at the screen…wow Robert…wow…didn't know you had it in ya. *He looks so calm usually, doesn't he?*

**IceDragonHikari**: I can't tell you how excited I am for the Fort Wagner battle…me is so excited.

**GDgirl1993**: Lol, he just kind of threw that out there. "Oh, btw guys, I am in love with this chic from the future." ;)

**Anonymous**: I find myself being incredibly happy that I'm not the quartermaster, with Robert going all karate on his store, I would have peed my pants..lol.

**YarisVamp**: Lol, you crack me up. ;D

**Jazmonsterr**: Lol, I agree with you whole-heartedly, that is totally something my big brother would say. *Rolls eyes.* Team Ralex, haha, our awesome inside joke, eh? ;D

**Anntrell**: Welcome back! Lol, thanks…that's oddly flattering…lol. ;D

* * *

Andrews was a real piece of work. He hates my guts, I can feel it every time I get up to get a drink of water and he watches me as if hoping I'd choke. This is getting really annoying, how every time I take a breath he sighs and rolls his bleary eyes, as if I was wasting his air. This was not my ideal way of spending a Saturday night. Now I know how my uncle felt being stuck in a tank for twelve hours in Iraq, listening to a replay of the song 'Barbie Girl' in German.

At least Andrews wasn't a perv, point won for him. Even though he did not turn Charlie Sheen on me, he did go macho-military. For example, around three AM he told me to go to the kitchen and wakeup Cookie so he could make him some coffee. Just as I told him to get it himself, he lost his patience...again. "MISS JANEIRO! THAT IS AN ORDER!" Trip actually stirred at this. Honestly, chill out, I'm bleedin' out the ears here. We're dealing with _food_ not missiles.

Twenty minutes later, I brought him his bloody coffee, spilling a few drops on his fancy suit, an accident, of course. Then I resumed my post next to Trip's pitiful bedside, swabbing and dabbing, swabbing and dabbing. When Andrews wasn't looking, I pulled out the shiny Communicator to check the time, stifling a yawn in the process.

Four thirty in the morning.

How much longer shall this torture last? The regiment wakeup call is in an hour and thirty minutes. I almost stayed up all night, dammit Forbes. After placing a fresh compress on Trip's back, (Andrews helped gasp!) I could barely function any longer. If my eyes got any droopier, I'd have to hold them open with toothpicks. I leaned my forehead against the mattress of Trip's bedside, I think I'll just close my eyes for a minute...zzzz...

Later…

A hushed voice, warm breathing, a leathery sensation on my arm. Foggy, but I managed to realize that my body was sprawled unflatteringly on what felt like a wooden floor. A singular brush of my hand, and I realized that the so-called floor was really a mattress. Ow, it killed my back. The leathery feeling on my arm nudged me slightly, and the warm breath, smelling of black coffee and almonds, heated the side of my face. High time to open your eyes, don't you think?

"Miss Janeiro." It was Robert who whispered my name, satin-smooth and without a hint of drowsiness in his hushed voice. The leather feeling on my forearm moved again, shaking me gently awake. I felt kind of shy, but I forced my eyelids to part anyway, searching for Robert whose silhouette was framed against the speckled blue of the early morning light. Not to sound like a hopeless romantic, but it was such a pretty image.

He leaned closer, and removed his hand from my arm. I sat up quickly; confused at the fact that I fell asleep on a crate and woke up in a bunk bed parallel to Trip's. Oh well, at least Andrews left. I saluted Robert, though in a daze. "Colonel Shaw!"

Thunk.

I stared up at him from the floor, don't even bother asking how I got down there, just roll your eyes and keep reading, you know the drill. Robert stooped down to help me up, a tight grip on my arm and support around my waist. Ta-da! Standing at attention again. I brushed myself off, avoiding his eyes, feeling the reflexive heat sting my cheeks. I wasn't even embarrassed, I just did these things so often my body was used to it.

"Miss Janeiro, are you alright?" He asked, flattering me with the concern laced through his voice.

Right as rain. I raked both hands through my wild cave-woman hair. It looked like something died up there. "Yes, thank you."

Robert appeared satisfied, but then he started to fidget again. Am I really this awkward to be around? As if reading my mind, a clearing of the throat washed his uneasiness away. "Miss Janeiro, I will be going in to town to see the quartermaster in an hour or so, and I was wondering if you would like a change in scenery."

This should be interesting. "I'd...um...it'd...yes." How smooth, eh? Robert looked almost relieved. I gave him my best grin, and the corner of his mouth pulled upward in a crooked smile.

"Good."

* * *

It was a silly idea to bring her, Robert knew that but he could not help it. It would not be well to have her with him lest he lost his temper in front of the quartermaster. Maybe he just wanted her there for support, or maybe her presence could somehow help restrain him from losing his temper in front of that bloody Kendricks. This was to be a simple, calm conversation. Robert mentally snorted. It if was going to such a calm, cool conversation than why did he intend on leaving his revolver behind in fear that he might use it?

He turned to leave, but Miss Janeiro's voice grabbed him. "Sir?"

He turned slowly, giving her a drowsy, vaguely interested smile. "What is it?"

She turned slightly red at that moment. Oh good Lord. "Did you...um...do you know...how I got here?" She pursued her lips suspiciously. "If someone carried me?"

Robert stiffened, mechanically turning on his heels and exiting the tent.

* * *

Robert had rounded up a group of privates and corporals, as well as Miss Janeiro and Mr. Rawlins, both of whom were stifling yawns from staying up most of the night. He left the rest of the camp in Forbes's charge, which did not necessarily guarantee that when Robert came back, it would still be in one piece. But Robert had faith in the man...in his _friend_.

Horses could be spared only for the officers, most of whom had brought their powerful animals from home, so Robert decided to abandon Glory at camp and walk alongside his men on foot. The town-more of a military base-was just a little over a mile, so they had no trouble getting their in under twenty minutes.

When they stepped on the wide street on the outskirts of town, Robert picked up his pace, stalking aggressively down the streets, his forceful group earning double takes from the other officers that they passed along the way. But Robert paid them no mind; in fact, he hardly noticed them at all, too busy he was in planning his attack…er…_approach_.

Robert quickened his long strides even more so when they turned on to their targeted street. His lips moved wordlessly as he silently read every phrase and every heading of every pitiful building, his eyes scanning for the one that marked his destination. He almost jumped from anticipation when he finally saw it in the distance.

A few more marching steps and they reached its muddy threshold. Robert glided to the top with graceful ease, twisting his torso around to check up on his small group of soldiers. He watched as the powerfully built men settled into at ease positions, their expressions sedate but body language menacing, daring people to come break through their exterior. Robert had brought them because he wanted the fifty-fourth to look intimidating to the quartermaster, that this regiment was truly invincible, to one to be trifled with..

Robert speculated the group with a prideful kind of scrutiny, observing each perfectly-positioned soldier, his eyes pausing on Mr. Rawlins, who looked back at him encouragingly, and lingered on Miss Janeiro, who did not look at him at all, instead she was following him to the top of the stairs. Robert made up his mind quickly.

He put up one gloved hand to stop her, his universal sign language telling her to wait. She looked at him in confusion, but submitted to his request, stumbling back down the stairs and halting between Mr. Rawlins and a tough-looking private in a bright navy blue jacket with silver buttons. He was afraid he might lose his temper, and it would not be good for a 'fragile' lady such as Miss Janeiro.

With a deep breath to steady himself, Robert pulled the heavy door open and dove into the great unknown.

* * *

Kendricks leaned back in a chair that was much too small for his massive body, throwing his head back and adjusting the thick cigar between his blubbery lips. He liked his job, for he rarely had to do anything other than lounge about in this here chair. All this free time had afforded him extra time to think…and _eat_.

He always got a good chuckle whenever he thought of the Christmas dinner he had a few nights ago with Haggis and that colonel. Shaw was a fool, for taking on a job with a bunch of niggers. Kendricks found it amusing how insulted he was when he had suggested that they would not be allowed to fight. The young man stiffened and glared at him, then had the nerve to ask for shoes!

How naive! The boy should know better. He probably never worked a day in his life, and was used to having everything brought to him on a silver platter. He probably runs off to daddy whenever something goes wrong. He was no colonel, and his so-called regiment was no army. He was just a little prince with a group of house slaves and field hands, masquerading under a shield of artificial leadership.

The door opened.

Speak of the devil. The quartermaster smirked in amusement as the young man he was just laughing at slammed the door behind him. This should be entertaining, for his day had been long and boring so far. Through his ignorant gloating, he failed to notice how dangerously narrow the 'boy's' blazing brown eyes were, narrowed at _him_.

"Good afternoon, _Colonel_." He deliberately put emphasis in his rank, hinting at how ridiculous he found the title on him. "D'you change your mind about that bottle I was talking about?" He chuckled at his own poor, sick joke, which the colonel did not find amusing at all.

He leaned on his desk, his body angled forward and his face set in arctic loathing; his eyes alive with burning fury. "I want six hundred pair of shoes and twelve hundred pair of socks." His words were sharp and snippy, like he would not take no for an answer. "And anything else you've been holding out on us." He spoke slowly like he was speaking to an ignorant darkie, circling around his high desk to stand in front of Kendricks. "Piece of rat filth." He muttered.

Kendricks sobered immediately, indignant from being treated so rudely, firing his own torpedo of secretly harsh words into the water. "I'd love to help you, Colonel, but we just don't have any." He lied through his teeth, pleased with another layer of rage that washed over the colonel's face. Kendricks was not sorry at all, watching Shaw in secret gloating as his brown eyes turned black and his personality solidified.

* * *

Robert growled. That was _not_ what he wanted to hear. "Not for _niggers_, you don't." He fired out, surprised with himself.

For Robert, that was the last straw. He rarely ever lost his temper like this, but he felt the anger of a wounded animal and he was powerless to stop the adrenaline that pulsed through every vein. His heart beat faster as he stared the obese quartermaster in the eye and struggled not to spit in his damned face. He attempted not to let rage get the best of him, taking a deep breath to stabilize himself, he set his jaw in annoyance.

The quartermaster blinked slowly, on the point of anxiousness. "Not for anybody."

"I see. Pity." He pretended to humor the man, allowing his venomous sarcasm to slip into his words. "Let's have a look around and see if you haven't misplaced them."

Robert lost the war over his temper. With a sharp spin on his boot heel, he took two deliberate steps towards a few shelves stacked with tin cans and such other junk. With a sharp, sudden jab of his elbow, the lowest shelf trembled and collapsed to the ground, the tin clanking as it fell on the stone floor, spilling its contents all over the dirty ground. Robert diregarded the quartermaster's bellowing voice.

"Hey!" He hollered, trying to raise his round body out of his seat.

But Robert ignored him, crashing down more and more shelves. His hands shook and he had tunnel vision, his breathing shallow and rapid with violence. "Son of a bitch!" His voice dripped with loathing, and with a sudden fling of his arm he knocked a pyramid of tin mugs off of the tall desk and into Kendricks' face.

"Dammit!" The quartermaster had lost his patience with Shaw, his eyebrows knitted up in irritation as well as panic. "You can't…"

Robert was quick to cut him off. "Can't I?" He 'asked' testily, his eyes narrowed in cynical amusement. "I'm a colonel…nasty little cuss!"

No one had ever spoken this way to Kendricks, and it was all he could do as to stare at Shaw with his mouth agape.

"You really think you can keep seven hundred Union soldiers without proper shoes because you think it's _funny_?" He spat, punctuating his words and flinging them at Kendricks like a thousand knives.

Kendricks stared in shock.

Robert glared at him with strong repulsion. "Now where would that power come from?"

* * *

Frankly, Kendricks was terrified. This _boy_, who must have been twenty years his junior just slammed him viciously back into his place. The quartermaster gawked at him through saucer-wide eyes, the colonel was standing in front of him breathing deeply, nostrils flaring in a way that gave him the appearance of an invincible, fire-breathing dragon that only existed in his worst nightmares.

His ego plunged as he begged Shaw to calm down. "All right, all right. C-calm down." He needed to calm down as well, for his chest was heaving with labor and his heart contracting painfully.

Quickly, he shuffled through the mess of papers on his desk for an order slip, fumbling for a plume and some fresh ink. He could feel the colonel's eyes on him, scrutinizing his every breath and movement, and it terrified him, feeling the sensation as if his eyes were disintegrating his skin, and it made him twitch uncomfortably. He looked up at him, trying to figure out a way to tame him.

"H-have a drink." He offered, reaching for a crystal shot glasses.

Robert beat him too it, slamming his hand down on them before Kendricks had a chance to open the bottle. His silent refusal was brutal and commanding, jerking his head back to the paperwork and wordlessly demanding him to continue. He watched over his shoulder, refusing to speak a word, remaining mute until he was finished scrawling on the order. He held the fresh-inked paper out to him.

He snatched it out of his hand, storming out of his building and slamming the door.

Kendricks collapsed in relief.

* * *

Life was currently boring and uneventful. Robert told me to wait outside, which I was still kind of bummed out about, but whatever; and he still had not come out yet. It's been what, five minutes? I tried to make conversation to Jones, one of Trip's goons that was standing next to me. I told him I would kill for his jacket, it was a very nice article of clothing, but I don't think he took it the right way.

I don't mean to brag, but we looked so cool strolling up that street, with Rob in the lead, wearing a 'step-in-my-way-and-I-shall-smite-thee' expression. We looked like the 1800's version of a Chicago mafia. Al Capone, Machine Gun Kelly, Scarface, the whole package. We were a group of dangerous-looking guys, except me, for I am in fact a girl, thank you.

I mumbled out a few Lady Gaga lyrics earning an odd look from everybody except Rawlins, who probably had not even heard me. Where was Robert? If you haven't noticed, I get bored pretty quickly, and worse, I'm running out of Gaga songs. I wonder if anything new had come out since I disappeared from the future. Maybe they had flying cars by now.

Crash!

Crash!

Crash!

"Son of a bitch!" Oh, boom Chihuahua!

Crash!

Crash!

Crash!

The hell was that? I nudged Rawlin's arm. "Did ya hear that?"

He looked just as surprised as I felt, staring at the door in bemusement. By now, every guy here turned around to gape and gawk at the door, as a queer silence followed. My first thought was: Oh my God they killed each other. My second thought was: Who was hiding whose body? And my third thought before the door opened was: If Forbes is gonna take over and lead us into battle, we're all gonna die.

Then the door opened, and Hallelujah we are delivered. Robert was alive. He maneuvered out of the building, pulling the door shut loudly behind him, like a teenager who slams the door in defiance to their parents. He turned around slowly, his hair tousled and protruding in every direction out of his mangled kepi; his forehead slick with gym sweat. He breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling quickly. His eyes scanned our little goon squad.

Then he smiled.

* * *

**BTW you guys should totally go on to my profile and there is a Youtube link for a video that says "Vote on your favorite Glory character." I think you might find it to be interesting. :D**

**Review please.**


	35. Bring it On

**Hey guys, sorry for the wait, I was sick and had a year's worth of homework to catch up on. I feel much better, thanks guys!**

**Ye be warned: Kinda random but hard case of writer's block. :(**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**HeartlessVampireGirl**: YES, Robert actually called the quartermaster a S.O.B. in the movie. Gasp! :D

**Otose**: Thank you! I know right? I had to watch that part several times with my friends because it's such a killer scene.

**GDgirl1993**: Thanks. Isn't his smile just adorable after that scene? *Sigh*

**IceDragonHikari**: I'm itching to WRITE the upcoming battle scene.

**Jazmonsterr**: I have to agree with your mom, Charlie Sheen was hot back in the day (Ferris Bueller!) and I'm not the only one that thinks Jon Cryer looks like Matthew Broderick! I told my friends that and they thought I was crazy, they're like: Geez, you see Broderick _everywher_e. LOL.

**Beagle Bug**: Oh that's easy, just click on the Vote For Fave Glory Character on my profile and just pt who you like best in the comments. :)

**Anonymous**: Thanks for the Get Well thoughts! :) I heart that scene, omigosh.

**HighQueenCrystal**: Lol, I actually thought that it was way too early, but people were wanting it and it was too late to change it. :(

**Dress4m**: Thank you so much, :D I heart Robbie. ;)

**BK Love-ah**: Thank you for the nice review, I feel much better. :)

**CarminaXBuranaX**: Aww thanks hon, it made my ough and mucus filled day. :D Yeah, I knew what your name was and when I watched the Glory trailer on youtube one of the comments were "That music is called Carmina Burana etc. etc." I totally meant to ask you, but you beat me to the punch. :)

**Smartyjonescrzy**: Hehe, I used to think I was a major Windie, but I see that I now must cough that title over to you. :) I looked Norwood Hallowell up on google, he's interesting, but he pales in comparison to Robert Gould Shaw, I'm sure you'd agree, eh? ;)

**YarisVamp**: Haha, thanks. I was super-surprised when Rob called him a SOB in the movie. The entire class was cracking up! ;)

**SamanthaStory**: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I know right? Sometimes I wish no copyright existed so people could just publish their fanfics. ;)

* * *

Robert could not help but grin, abandoning the hopeless cause of trying to kill the smile before it had a chance to break out across his face. He felt light-headed and his tunnel vision was just beginning to widen out to normal, but that unshakeable feeling of upliftedness was yet to evanesce. Robert was a foreigner to this new, _powerful_ emotion, for it was so rare for him to act this way that he found himself doubting it really happened.

He went to such extreme measures, but he felt no guilt, in fact, he felt prevailing and stronger. Desperate times call for desperate measures. God knows how desperate he was. It was an ego-boosting sensation, and Robert felt unconeitedly proud, the comforting impression like there was nothing in this world that he couldn't do. The numbness that held him prisoner for the last several days finally released its unbreakable grip from Robert's collar. He felt alive again.

He even felt a little silly for all that he was getting out of verbally abusing the posturing quartermaster, but truth be told, he was enjoying every minute. His heart was still racing, but over time, his pulse gradually began to return to normal. There was only one thing he feared, and that was if Miss Janeiro had heard his fowl language. Ladies had very sensitive ears, he knew that.

He jerked his head back at her, scrutinizing her face for any sign of shocked emotion, or a degrading opinion of him. None. In fact, she wasn't looking at him at all, but appeared to be deep in thought over some womanly matter that he could not even begin to comprehend. Robert turned to face forward again, leading his menacing-looking band of soldiers back to camp.

* * *

Like I said earlier, I hate Andrews. When we came back, Robert gave me some chores to do and sent me back to the medical tent, Andrews bound. Thanks a lot Rob, maybe someday I'll repay my freaking gratitude to you. Can't wait to see what Andrews will have me do, no doubt something sexist and domestic like cooking or mopping.

On second thought, nah, he won't make me do cooking, because last time I was in the kitchen was not a success. Last night when Andrews sent me to get coffee, I woke Jerry the Cook up and asked him to make it, he told me to help him. So I did. But things did not go according to plan, and I ended up burning _water_.

How the freak do you burn _water_?

Now as long as I had already begun my long list of whines and complaints to you, let me throw in the thing that pisses me off most. The guy refuses to call me Alex. How hard is that? But when he does the 'miss' B.S, he can't even say _that_ right. It's not 'Miss Jan-eee-ro' you egotistical bottom-dweller, it's Jan-air-o, like the city. Is this really too much to ask? I mean, even after correcting him, he still stresses the E in my last name.

I grumbled, drawing a dirty rag out of the soapy bucket and twisting the unnecessary water out of it. I slammed the wet rag on to the dirty wooden floor, in the medical building adjacent to the medical _tent_. The floor had a foot of dust and grime on it, and this, believe it or not, was not a fun process. I had just cleaned about a square foot of the long corridor-me so proud- when Forbes and Charlie came tramping through the doors. When Forbes, who had hardly noticed me, got closer, I grinned evilly, and stuck out a foot just for the fun of it.

My plan had worked. He stumbled, tried to catch his footing, but tripped over my ankle and ended up falling into the hall, his body sprawled on the ground. I felt bad for him, truly I did, and I would have apologized if not for the fact that I was laughing so hard. I didn't expect him to fly down like that, stumble maybe, but not fall. Charlie laughed as well, his eyes tearing up from amusement. He sank down next to me, and we leaned against each other, supporting each of our weight as we collapsed in a fit of laughter.

Forbes scowled at first, and then shot us down with a lopsided grin. Propping himself up against the wall, he sighed. "I hope everyone saw that because I will _not_ be doing it again."

With one final chuckle, Charlie sobered. "Are you all right, my friend?"

Forbes looked at me pointedly and rolled his eyes. "Right as rain." He muttered sarcastically.

I changed the subject. "So Forbes, where were you guys going?"

Forbes was still was still wearing the same glare that Robert was wearing when he marched off to harass whoever, the glare that made them both look like the terminator. But I flashed Forbes an innocent smile, and his glare melted away as he looked up heavenward, as if seeking for some divine help and a reason not to pummel me.

Charlie answered for him, sensing his distress. "We were about to gather some troops to help bring in the wagons of shoes."

I frowned in confusion. "Shoes?"

"For the men." Forbes replied calmly, pulling himself up. Charlie joined him.

"Okay, kids, have fun!" I waved at them and they smiled…even Forbes…continuing for the exit of the building.

Let me interrupt for a minute so I can brag about how cool Rob's little mafia-group looked like, strolling up that alley like assassins ready to deal with some traitor to the gang. We were like Chicago mobsters, and Robert was Al Capone. His eyes were like flint, anger boiling behind the lenses. Wow, such a powerful description, eh?

Speaking of Roberto…

Soul Searcher Time. In two weeks I'll be eighteen years old. Is that still too young to know what love really is? I mean, I know that I might come off as immature, but really I am smarter than I look and sound (would you believe that I won first place in my freshman science fair?) No, I thought you wouldn't, but it really _did_ happen, it should be included in Ripley's Believe it or Not.

_Anyway_…I feel this fluttery feeling whenever I'm around Robert, and when he talks to me (or let us just say '_reprimands_' since that happens much more often) I feel higher, right there on top of the world along with Santa. Sometimes I feel like I can fly, and whenever I feel homesick, and I talk to Robert, banter with Forbes, and think deeply with Charlie, I feel like everything is all right, and nostalgia slips away, and it feels like the stars burn for me.

Son of a-why the hell do people do this? It took me almost one hour to scrub one-third of the hallway clean and Andrews, Mr. High-and-mighty, just walked in and dragged mud on the floor of the corridor. Remember when I had to use all my self-control not to flash obscene gestures at Andrews? Well, I don't have much control left.

My temper snapped, that was the last bloody straw, it was almost the same feeling I get when my sister plays one of her Justin-fudging-Beiber songs. "Dude! What the hell?"

I feel a little abused, like a coffee machine in an office.

Andrews half turned, his eyebrow raised in surprise. "I don't have time to argue with you Miss Janeiro, and frankly, it does not concern me."

Again, son of a-ooh that's it. That. Is. It. He needed to stop acting like a jerk. And he needed to seriously rethink the length of his sideburns. I have no idea what took over me, it was like Disturbia, but I dragged myself off of the floor, and brought the dirty rag with me. Lifting it over my head, I spun it around like cowboys do with their lassos. Then I released, watching as it sailed into the air and landed with a splat on Andrews's James-Norrington head.

Not one of my most brilliant moments.

* * *

Robert was shocked with Miss Janeiro's display. Women! Leave them alone for one minute and what do they do? He was passing through the intersecting hallway when he heard scrubbing noises; he rounded the corner to find Miss Janeiro, muttering something and them humming some depressing love song. The next moment, Andrews walked in and the rag was in the air and on his head. Good Lord, just what he needed, more damn problems.

"What is the meaning of this?" He spoke calmly, but his voice held a sharp, irritated edge to it that brought both Miss Janeiro and Andrews to attention, lifting the rag off his head in disgust.

Miss Janeiro blinked blankly, her eyes wide like silver dollars. Andrews spoke first. "This-this-_woman_ threw this rag at me." Andrews complained in a low growl, murdering Miss Janeiro with a glare.

She lifted her chin high in indignation. "He deserved it."

Robert closed his eyes painfully, rubbing at his temples, trying to force the throbbing wave of pain to ebb from his head. "Miss Janeiro, surely there must have been a reason."

"Of course there was."

"Humph."

They answered at the same time.

Robert's eyes jumped from Miss Janeiro to Lieutenant Andrews, glowering at them both in an irritated fashion. "Miss Janeiro, come with me." He snapped, and his tone demanded compliance.

She shuffled her feet and followed after him, and Robert dismissed Andrews, who was unruffled by the entire ordeal. He led Miss Janeiro back to the medical tent, telling her to leave the mopping chore for a later time. She tried to explain something to him, but Robert refused to listen, his mind still on the toughening subject of shoes. He guided her inside the tent and sat her down next to the whipped private's bedside, deliberately looking at him as little as possible.

"Miss Janeiro, notify me or Lieutenant Andrews if he regains consciousness." He instructed, waiting for her to nod. "And do try to show more respect to a higher ranking officer." He noticed her glower and grit her teeth in defiance, but he exited the building before she could begin her protesting.

He was only half-horrified that a grown lady would behave this way, but it was subdued do to the fact that he had seen his sister Susannah behave the same way many times before. There probably was a verifiable reason to the way she acted, but Robert had too much on his mind as it was to worry about _that_. He would pursue it later if he was given the time.

* * *

Why did I do that?

Because I'm a lummox, aren't I?

I feel so stupid. If those ridiculous stereotypes say that blondes are dumb, than what the hell am I? My temper got the best of me, I had tunnel vision and I did not think. When _do_ I think? I am most 'proud' to announce that I officially have anger issues. He just pissed me off. Then Robert came along like the freaking plague and made it worse. I still despise Andrews.

Don't get me wrong, now normally I don't walk around hating on people, but with Andrews, it is _so_ much different. He is the root of all evil. The epitome of dread and misery. He makes my life hell-o. I can't help but sulk as I sit by Trip's unconscious body, glowering at Andrews' back whenever he walks in. Really, he treats me like my boss treated me on the first day I came to work at Burger King. Yes, I said Burger King. Don't judge, we're all aware of how much my life sucks by now.

Me: Good Morning Sir! I'm so excited to be working for Burger King and hope that my work will meet your expectations; I hope to contribute greatly to the burger community! *Kiss up*

Boss: Go away; I don't have time for ignorant students.

Me: …*shuffles out of room*

You get the picture.

Just like Andrews, he was the type of guy who yelled a lot. After complaining about it to my older step sister (don't like her much either), she told me that people like that could be taken care of with loads of finesse and the right attitude. So whenever he yelled at me, I found that the most efficient attitude and finesse was to yell right back at him.

That got me fired.

I wrinkled my nose at the dried blood and ointment that came with the soiled bandages as I stripped them off of Trip's back. I discarded them in the medical bin, and went to grab a washbowl and clean cloth off of a cabinet shelf. When I returned to Trip's bedside, I dipped the cloth into the water and brushed it gently against his raw skin.

His eyes flew open and he gritted his teeth. "Damn it." He cursed.

I was taken aback. He was partly dead and still had strength to use profanities. 'You're awake." Brilliant deduction, my dear Watson.

I threw a look over my shoulder, glad to find that Andrews had left the room. I dipped the cloth again and was gentler as I touched his skin. He winced again. "Have you no mind, Girl?"

I'm dying to know what's the hundredth thing I did to piss somebody off today. "What?" I snapped.

"Yo head is empty fo sho, ain't it?" Trip grunted softly, glaring at me.

"I'm _not_ stupid." I sniffed indignantly. Ha, that's a laugh.

"All them white 'ladies' ain't got no more sense than a chicken." He muttered, much too loud for a sick man. "Yo blind, Girl? I ain't got no skin on mah back and yo is pressin' on it lak a britches on a scrub board."

I gritted me teeth. "I barely touched you."

Trip rolled his eyes. "Dumber than a chicken. Worse than a nigger."

My temper has been swirling in circles today, and it just snapped again. I'm so sick of his crap I could just puke. Ever since the first day of this B.S. he's been making fun of me and making me feel like dirt. Well, I had it. I had enough! "Would you shut up!"

It was Trip's turn to be taken aback. "What the hell did you say to me?"

Hate is not an attractive color on you.

"Are you deaf and stupid?" I growled, pressing the cloth down on his back enough to make him wince. I apologized immediately, though, I did not mean to hurt him.

Trip's voice took on a warning tone. "You better watch who you is talkin' to. I ain't taking no shit from no white trash."

That. Officially. Pissed. Me. Off. "Listen, jerk..."

"Mighty strong words for a-"

"Shut up!" I cut him off. "_I'm_ talking, not you."

He opened his mouth to protest only to have me cut him off again.

"Who do you think you are?" I spat. "I'm so tired of your macho bullshit." My dad would stick soap into my mouth no matter how old I was. "You walk around like you're the king of the world, and you hate everybody. Well you know what? The people you put down have feelings. Including me. Everybody here has their own effing problems, but they don't drag people down with them. You humiliate me and make me feel like dirt, and I'm tired of it. You even make me cry sometimes." I grudgingly admitted. "But after you got whipped, I felt sorry for you. I didn't think you deserved it. But now, I feel no sympathy to you. I've never knew a black person who was called a nigger and fit the description." Except maybe Kanye West. "But you just might be it!"

By the time I was done, my chest was heaving so hard I looked like Reese Witherspoon after she ripped up the posters in _Election_. I stormed away from him, wringing my hands as I crossed the room to put as much distance between us as humanly possible. I don't get angry easily, but today everybody's pissing me off for some reason. Maybe it's because my monthly screw-up fairy is due any day now. I hate Mother Nature, too.

I was still fuming when I heard Trip shout to me. "Janeiro!" It was the first (and last) time he used my name, rather than Twinkle Toes.

Stick it where the sun don't shine, buddy. "What do you want now?"

"Come here." He ordered.

Over my dead body. I remained stationary.

He got the hint, and grudgingly added the magic word. "Please."

I marched to his bedside, my arms akimbo and my best scowl 'decorating' my face. "Yes, your majesty."

Trip looked uncomfortable. "Sit down."

I glared at him but did what he said.

"I didn't…" He was swallowing his pride, I could see it in his eyes. "I ain't aiming for you getting' mad."

"Oh?" I arched an eyebrow, feigning disinterest.

I could tell my responses weren't making it any easier for him."I aint' sho mah self why ah wuz sayin that trash." He laughed bitterly, wincing at his back. "Guess ah is just pissed at mah back, and that white boy." He noticed my stare, and corrected himself. "Ah-the colonel. Shaw, ain't it? Ah wuz just-hell…"

"He wasn't the one who deserted." I retorted, even thought I knew perfectly well that Trip didn't either. I crossed my legs and arms.

He sighed. "Let up on me, Girl, you is blind or can't you see that this ain't easy to say?"

I bit down a smile. "What exactly are you trying to say?" I'm going to make him say those words, even if it kills him.

His face twisted into something of a wince and a scowl. "Ah will let off on ya. Ah shouldn't 'ave been buggin' a woman in them first place anyhow." I stared him down, and he crumbled. "Ah's…ah's…dammit…ah's 'pologizing."

I gave him a big smile, feeling mighty accomplished. "You know what, Trip? I get pissed at the world sometimes too."

Then, with extra care, I gently rebandaged his back. He gave me an exhausted smile. "You know, Girl? You's all right…fo' a white."

My returning smile was lopsided. "Thanks."

* * *

"They're here, Sir."

Robert snapped his head back, startled out of his cat nap that he took standing up. His eyes found Charlie standing in the door way, his eyes glowing and his face flushed with excitement. Robert pushed off of the wall and approached his friend, returning the salute that the younger man had managed not to forget to deliver.

Robert was confused. "Pardon?"

"Shoes, Sir." Charlie danced on one foot. "We brought 'em in."

Robert had to struggle to keep his own childish excitement at bay, and force himself not to run outside like a little boy. But he rushed out with speed anyway. His long-legged strides scaled between the tents as he broke out of the small 'neighborhood' of soldier housing and came to stand in the clearing by the camp entrance, immediately noticing four wagons filled to the brim with black leather shoes.

Rawlins was standing in one, clutching the side of the wagon and flinging a pair of shoes tied by laces into the air. He was surrounded by a flood of soldiers who pushed against each other, each man trying to make his way to the front. All exulted their excitement and happiness at the top of their lungs, glad that they would no longer have to march bare-footed on the thawing, early spring ground.

"Here, boys!" Rawlins called out, a grin too big for his face sketched on to his weathered, leathery brown skin. He threw pairs and pairs of shoes at the mob of men, all had their hands raised and tackled each other to catch a pair. Rawlins laughed. "One pair per customer!"

Robert watched their happiness in a dark corner between the tents, aloof and staying out of everyone's way. He was feeling pleased of himself, an emotion that rarely slipped into his brain and heart. He wanted to shout and grin as well, but that would not be proper, for he was their commanding officer and must always maintain an air of serene seriousness and authority.

But he allowed himself a small smile.

"Robert, sir?" He half-turned at the feminine voice, not noticing the fact that she used his first name.

Miss Janeiro wrung her hands, glancing over his shoulder at the cheery spectacle. "Sir, the private regained consciousness." She shrugged, looking everywhere but at him. "I thought you would like to know."

He was feeling generous, and he flashed her a smile, starting with one corner of his mouth and pulling up the other. It was gone before long. "Thank you, Miss Janeiro."

She wasn't sure whether or not to acknowledge his ghost of a smile, and attempted something that looked like a salute but ended up hitting her kepi off of her head. Robert beat her to it and retrieved it for her. She took it from him quickly, pulling it back over her eyes, trying to hide her blush. With a thank you, she scurried off. Robert watched the jubilant men for another minute, before following after her.

He stepped casually into the medical tent, his eyes immediately finding the wounded private, his high spirits slowly erasing. He watched in silence as Andrews, after showing a salute, changed the private's soiled bandages and gently laid out fresh linen scraps across the soldier's brutally butchered back. Robert felt himself wincing as he watched the man's struggled breathing.

"Andrews." He stopped the young doctor in the doorway. The man turned to look at him expectantly. Robert wished only to help. "Is there anything you need?" The colonel was serious, he'd go back again and maybe this time he'd break down Kendrick's damned door if he had to.

Andrews processed his words, speedily thinking of anything they might be low on. "No sir."

"Let me know." Robert's voice was gentle, but his tone was like a command, as if he _wanted_ a reason to go back and harass Kendricks again. It was a very ego-lifting process.

Andrews saluted, side-stepping him. "Yes, sir."

Robert nodded, ready to leave the tent as well, until he threw a glance back at the wounded boy. He shifted his head and turned it to face Robert, eyeing him with a hard stare that made Robert feel like he was disintegrating under his harsh glare. He met his eyes and looked at him with pity, breaking his gaze abruptly and exiting the tent.

* * *

**My US History class is full of idiots. Half of them thought that Abraham Lincoln lived in the Revolutionary War. I was appalled, they taught the Civil War since like fourth grade. Really people. Lol.**

**Review please. :)**


	36. Rio

**Ah, the weekly update!**

* * *

**Otose**: Thanks, I've totally read your story too and I loved it, I've just been really bad and did not review it yet, which I will do so post haste. :)

**Beagle Bug**: Haha, our school had celeb day last week, too. I went as Lady Gaga, had that platinum wig and the shiny lightning bolt on my face and everything. It was fun.

**IceDragonHikari**: Trust me on this one, I feel no loyalty to ignorant people, particularly my US History, class, an AP class as well. My teacher almost passed out from shock. :O

**Smartyjonescrzy**: I was trying to establish the fact that Alex does not like Andrews, I would expect that she would be nonchalant about the whole 'Miss' thing by now…but then again...*shrugs* Alex is Alex. :D I read Calamity Jane, and I loved it. It was so…so…sweet. Your style of writing astounds me, Smarty, you must continue. :)

**CarminaXBuranaX**: Thank you! Normal is a good thing, it means that the characters are believable (like yours) and I can't wait for your next update, you never fail to impress! :)

**Anonymous**: Lol, Andrews is such a jerk, he reminds me of my cousin who thinks he's all that ever since he got accepted to Standford medical school. *Rolls eyes.* :D

**BK Love-ah**: Lol, Alex is just pissing everbody off to day, eh? :D Hahaha…

**YarisVamp**: Have you ever noticed htat almost all P.E. teachers are either gay or jerks? Or is it just me? ;p

**Samantha Story**: Get plenty of sleep, and drink a lot of fluids. Future doctor's orders. :D Thanks!

**Dress4m**: Thanks!

**Jazmonsterr**: Wow, almost everybody in my school is obsessed with two things. One: Charlie Sheen. Two: Chuck Norris. It's so crazy! Lol, people actually write reports about them. :D Ah yes, the battle of James Island and FT. Wagner are soon to happen *deep breaths* :)

**EmpressofDalmasca**: Thank you so much! Always nice to hear from new readers! :)

* * *

This morning I woke up screaming.

Literally.

Even though my scream was muffled by my scrawny excuse for a pillow, it was enough to make poor Forbes jerk violently up in his bunk next to mine. He stormed a loud curse and rolled over on his side, off the edge of the bed and on to the floor. He swore again, loud enough to stir most of the men with grumpy mutterings, and loud enough to wake Charlie up, whom was across from us on the other side of the room.

He blinked up at me from his position on the floor, and narrowed his eyes in serious scrutiny when he realized that I looked alright. "Alex, what the devil is the matter with you?"

Like I'm really going to tell you.

Now let me explain my not unusually strange behavior. I slept fitfully last night because my stomach kept hurting, and would wake me up several times an hour and force me to find a more comfortable position. A few minutes ago, was one of those times. I rolled over and frowned. It felt very uncomfortable in my pants, and a sticky, wet sensation-which is probably more information than you cared to know-made me sit up abruptly as I realized that Mother Nature had just honored me with another one of her unwanted visits.

And what followed after that, you already know. Forbes was still waiting for an answer. "Nothing." I snapped at him with panic and mild irritation. "Go back to sleep."

He stared at me blankly, then shrugged and turned his back to me.

This. Is. Not. Good.

This is so not fair. Not fair at all. Why did this have to happen? This is not fair, I tell you! I stared up at the ceiling, my blanket covering the bottom half of my body, folded underneath my arms. I clasped my hands together, please God don't let this be a monthly. I'd rather have peed myself than have that happen.

But unfortunately, it was my period. I could feel the cramping start already, numbing my thighs and brewing in the pit of my stomach. I was about to cry. I don't even half a change of…you get it. Besides, it's not exactly easy to perform the necessary feminine toiletries when you're sleeping with a bunch of men. Err…I could have worded that a little better, couldn't I?

Ow! It's seriously starting to hurt now. Now I'm going to start crying for real. Screw crying, I want to scream at the top of my lungs like a bloody banshee. I slapped a hand over my mouth in attempt to contain my tempting 'excitement.' I tried to be an optimist about, but I could not find anything to optimize, so I did the usual: at least this day can't get any worse.

It starts raining.

Today is not my day. Seriously, I thought this only happens in movies. Aargh! Permit me to scream, but I won't for I fear I'll wake somebody important up, like Robert, or worse…Mulcahy. I have to go outside in that rain too, because in the 1800's, people here actually put the bathrooms outside. What the hell? What happens in the winter when you have the stomach flu? Pneumonia.

I crawled from underneath my blanket, and stumbled out of bed, irritatingly unwrapping the poor excuse for a blanket that dared to wrap itself around my legs. I kicked it away. I grabbed that really cool Union jacket 'Susannah' gave me, and slipped my arms through the sleeves. It was thick and warm, but it did not make me want to go outside anymore than I wanted to go before.

Dragging a hand through my hot-mess hair, more like the mess without the hot, I pulled the blue Yankee hat over my eyes, trying to get the bill to shield my face from the rain. I was finally semi-prepared to step outside. The rain had me soaking wet in less than three minutes, of course it was only after I walked the half-mile to the darn restrooms, did I realize I had nothing to change into and needed to go back.

That's what I call ironic.

So I turned myself around and headed bloody back. I wanted to blame somebody for this, refusing to come to grips that I had nobody to lay this on but myself. Maybe I should blame Marty. After all, he was the one who started this whole civil war junk. Or maybe I should blame Forbes, he seems like an easy target. Or that damned Andrews. Or maybe Robert, just because I feel like it.

I groaned as I clutched my stomach. Go away pain! My body is such a traitor. Could it not wait until I was back in the future? Of course not. That would actually make sense. It is a proven, scientific phenomenon-law that everything that has to do with Alexandra Janeiro must not make sense. But seriously, it hurts so bad.

I leaned against a post, watching the rain fall. Mother Nature must have some grudge on me. It would be the cherry on top of my banana split if somebody came out and saw me right now. It would be almost as embarrassing as the time Andrews caught me doing 'Thriller' outside of the mess hall. I winced again, before pushing off of the wooden post that held the barrack building up, and stepped inside.

My eyes immediately landed on my bed. There was bright, conspicuous, small yellow duffel bag resting the ugly, light-blue bedding. The zippers gleamed in the silver light of the rain clouds, and I tried not to run to it for fear of waking any of the guys up with my loud, Jurassic Park footsteps. Nevertheless, I made haste, or whatever.

Soundlessly, I tackled the duffel bag, and ripped the zipper trail opened, wincing at the loud sound it made in the otherwise silent room. You can only imagine my relief when my eyes fell on the hygiene items inside. I let out a breath I did not know I was holding. Then again, it also made me blush; but it soon left, I'm not _that_ modest. There was a fresh set of jeans, more underwear, a stick deodorant, chap stick, and Glory Hallelujah, 'feminine napkins.'

There was also a hasty, awkwardly written note.

Alex-

Jennifer picked it out, not me.

You're Welcome,

-M.M

How doth he get in and out of here?

No matter, I grabbed the duffel bag, and ran back out into the nasty, silver weather. I reached the door of the 'bathhouse' as the officers refer to it, personally I think the soldiers' more vulgar term 'the Crapper' fits it much better. I breathed through my mouth the entire time, needless to say, it smells like shit-aki mushrooms in here. I proceeded to do my thing.

Now ladies, most of us hate this time of month. Some of us, seriously, passionately, despise it. I'm no different. But sometimes, PMS can be a total ego booster. You become unstoppable. Brave men cower in the darkest corners, fearing to be found by you. Personally, I become superwoman. I get mad faster than a speeding bullet, I argue more powerfully than a locomotive, and I'm able to jump to nasty conclusions in a single bound. Now, that's all very nice to have during a time of said crises, but what I really need is some sympathy, so try to picture my situation.

You are the only female for miles around. You are from the future, where PMS is shrugged at, instead of here, where it is sneered and horrified at. You are surrounded by men. Rowdy, muscled males who drill every day all day. You are 'aide-de-camp' to a cute Civil War officer that is at least one-hundred and fifty years older than you, fought at Antietam, and killed somebody. Not to mention, he will more than likely notice that you are not up and about today, and come storming in demanding an explanation that you will refuse to give. Gee whiz, I can't wait to see what life throws at me next.

Once my toiletries were completed, I stepped back outside into the wet atmosphere, taking deep breaths of the fresh, rainy air, enjoying the smell of petrichor and finally being able to breathe through my nose again. It feels good to have me sense of smell back, no thanks to the so-called 'bathhouse.' I slipped back into the barracks, noticing that they gloomy, dark grey sky was beginning to brighten into a snowy platinum, which means that the hours of night are passing into early morning, and soon enough, it would be time to wake up and face the inevitable.

I groaned, and gingerly slid back into my bunk, curling up into a fetal position under the flimsy blanket.

* * *

Later that morning, Forbes stood to the side with Charlie, stirring his watery coffee with mild enthusiasm. It did not look, smell, or taste very appetizing, but he needed all the caffeine he could get. The officers had gathered for breakfast in their smaller, cleaner 'dining room' apart from the soldiers' mess hall. He looked over at Charlie, who chewed on the side of his hard tack with the type of facial expression that made him look like he was eating soap.

Both men were quiet that morning, having woken up less than ten minutes before. Forbes yawned and his eyes watered, his attempt to blink back his 'tears' was fruitless, and his vision irritatingly blurred. The whole officer's squad carried themselves with an alert posture, but inwardly, all would rather be back in their bunk beds, sleeping soundly on a rainy morning such as this one.

Speaking of sleeping, a certain 'Miss Janeiro' was _still _not up and about yet. It was no big surprise for him, Forbes shrugged it off, he would just have to go back and wake her like he did every morning, before Robert walked through the barracks and found her there. Forbes smirked in amusement, knowing it would be quiet funny if he 'forgot' to wake her one morning and let Robert find her. He chuckled at the thought, but like a good friend, was set to go wake her the minute he finished his tasteless coffee.

Too his uncontainable surprise, he did not have to. When he raised his eyes from the black depths of his coffee, he found himself staring at the open door of the officer's barracks. The small person standing in the middle of the door way-or leaning heavily on, would be a better description-gave Forbes a startling shock. Her dark brown hair turned black and stringy, clumped together from the heavy rain, a shocking contrast with her sickly pale skin, making her blue eyes look like twin bruises. She looked like death itself, clad in dark denim, the dark blue union coat and the navy union kepi. Alex took one slow, deliberate step in, and the door slammed shut behind her from the force of the early spring wind.

Some people really know how to make an entrance.

"Alex, you look terrible." Forbes observed when he had finally found his voice to speak.

She gave him a glare that made him stiffen. "Gee, Forbes, you sure know how to compliment a girl." She snarled, plopping down on the bench across from him, and dropping her head into her arms on the table.

Forbes noticed Charlie arch an eyebrow with polite concern. "Alex, are you all right?"

"Yeah." She squeaked pathetically from the hidden depths of her arms.

Both men could hear the outright lie in her voice.

Apparently, Charlie decided not to speak anymore, and neither did Forbes. He was still shocked at her not-so-bright and early admission this morning. He sighed loudly as he watched her dark mess of coils drip water on to the floor, spiraling down and meeting the stone floor with a _plop!_ He turned away, bemused by her silence, and stirred his coffee. He stirred, and he stirred, and he stirred, finding nothing more productive to do with himself, until she broke the awkward silence.

"Screw it, Forbes! Would you stop stirring that drink or is this some kind of freaken' science experiment?" She barked, dropping her head down again. Trust Forbes, he _stopped_. Even Charlie looked scared.

A moment passed, and Forbes felt a bit wounded. That wasn't necessary. He shrugged it off, and stirred the coffee once more just for the fun of it. To his dismay, there was no reaction this time; so Forbes tried it again. No. Apparently his source of entertainment for this morning was broken now, and there was nothing left to do but go about the usual inspections of the camp. Not that he was in any hurry to do so; no one was ready to go out in that rain. But he cocked his head at Charlie, and he got the message.

Forbes made a show of rising, and made show of rising, slamming his coffee cup loudly but without attitude. It was only then that she raised her head to look at him. She did not look angry anymore, she looked sad and queasy, as if there was some major problem that she had and she was alone to face it. She stared at him sheepishly.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, and then dropped her head into her palms again, her legs drawn up to her stomach, and tears staining her face red.

Personally, Forbes would have rather had her scream at him again, rather than cry. He did not know what could possibly be the matter, and he strongly doubted that she was weeping for his forgiveness. He glanced at Charlie for support, for an answer, but at the moment, the man was as useless as he looked, gaping at her with an open mouth and dollar-sized eyes. Then Forbes blindly decided to take action.

He walked around the long, rectangular table, ignoring the perplexed stares of the subordinate officers, and signaled for Charlie to do the same. The two friends met in the middle, and a loaded, comprehending look passed them in a wordless plan, and they reached out to lift Alex off of the bench, one man per arm. She stared at them with a scowl, surprised and confused, as they dragged her outside. Once there, Forbes propped her up against a wall and stared at her.

She stared right back.

And somehow Forbes understood. He knew enough about women to understand what was going on here. He kept the symptoms in check, even though he was no Andrews. Pale, yes. Irritated, most definitely. Abdominal pain, well, he wasn't going to ask her _that_; but it was quiet obvious by the way she clutched her stomach, and Forbes pitied her, despite the fact that the tips of his ears were glowing a bright red.

He immediately changed the subject that they did not even begin to talk about, and he noticed her mouth a thank you as he turned away from her to face Charlie, who looked like he understood as well, and both men were swiftly at her side again, supporting her by the elbows, and leading her away from the cafeteria. Again, she was confused.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked, giving him no choice but to bring the subject back and talk about it.

"Back to the barracks, if anyone bothers you, tell them I ordered you to stay there." He looked at her and grinned. "You really do look terrible, and I'm sure you need all the rest we have to offer."

She leaned heavily against there arms as they all but dragged her through the rain. "Thanks guys."

Forbes smiled, pleased with himself. But Charlie was not smiling, he was wincing as the icy rain stung his face, and he pulled his hat lower over his eyes. "What's the matter, Charlie?" Forbes teased light-heartedly. "A brave man likes to feel the nature on his face."

That earned a jesting grin from Charlie. "And a wise man has enough sense to get out of the rain."

Forbes roared from laughter, that was an excellent comeback, and Charlie chuckled softly, and for the first time, Alex laughed as well.

* * *

I climbed into bed with a small smile, watching them exit the building and leave me alone in the entire barracks. Well, alone except for probably Robert, who's curtain-covered room was glowing a bright gold from the flickering firelight, like a beacon in this dark and rainy world. The boys told me to rest, and I figure they know about my 'condition' and told me to rest, promising to come back to check on me and bring food, later.

I love my friends.

With a yawn, I fell asleep.

* * *

The moment Robert stepped out of his room, rubbing his tired eyes from writing letters since early morning, he was shocked. Of course, everything seemed in place, the double rows of bunk beds were made and the blankets smoothed out without the tiniest of wrinkles. The rain pounded on the tin roof, and the gloomy-grey darkness of the day gave the entire barracks a sedate, tranquil atmosphere, but it was broken when Robert's eyes landed on Miss Janeiro's bunk, still occupied.

Robert was irritated, and more than a little peeved. He stormed to her side furiously, but leaving his anger out of his touch as he gently shook her awake. When her eyes finally opened, Robert noticed that she looked a little pale, and very tired, but the young colonel refused to give in, for this was the army, and things were to be taken toughly and seriously. She looked up at his angry expression and was near tears, which made him unwillingly soften up a bit.

"What the devil are you doing?" He demanded softly, still feeling very male and insensitive.

Her bottom lip wobbled and she looked like she would cry again, but she refused to wear her heart on her sleeve, and instead swallowed it, raising her chin in defiance. "With all due respect, Sir, none of your business."

Robert furrowed his brow. "I'm very tempted to use my rank against you, Miss Janeiro."

She snorted. "Go ahead, it won't help you, not one bit."

Robert closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to calm his taut nerves. Everyone was irate today. "Madam, as your commanding officer, I demand that answer this: Why are you not doing your duties at this hour, long after the wakeup call?"

She sat up in bed, pushing off and then standing completely on the ground. "I told you, it's none-" Suddenly, something not-so-odd happened, for Robert was used to women swooning and fainting, which proved again that Miss Janeiro was feminine. She clutched at her forehead, than her knees grew wobbly, and her eyes rolled in her head. They closed, and she collapsed.

Robert had reflexes, and good ones. He reached out and snatched her up by the waist, seconds before her head hit the ground. He felt guilty and worried. Was it something he did? Why was she so pale? Robert lay her down gently on the bunk, leaving her for a moment as he sprinted off in the direction of his quarters, reaching in to grab his cloak off of the stand, and dashing back to her side. He covered the length of her with it, and picked her up again.

Together, the conscious one of the two stepped out of the barracks and into the rain, hardly noticing the fact that he was coatless himself, and his white shirt was clinging to his dark-blue vest and arms in a matter of seconds. His soft, volumized brown hair, where it was not protected by his kepi, was smoothed by the pouring water from the skies. The raindrops bounced off of the shiny black bill of his hat and slid down his neck, and down his collar.

His destination was Andrews' medical quarters, though it probably would have been a smarter idea to just bring him to the barracks.

* * *

I opened my eyes, and waited for my blurry vision to unfog and adjust back to the normal clear view. I remembered arguing with Robert, refusing to tell him of my dilemma, for I was embarrassed, and the way he looked at me made me feel so low and dirty that he provoked me to treat him like dirt too. Or maybe it was a dream? It was very strange for me to pass out, I've never done that before, but perhaps it was low blood pressure, I'm not sure what.

I can vaguely hear voices, give me a minute.

"Symptoms suggest that Miss Janeiro is suffering from a feminine cycle that will pass in a few days…" Blah blah blah. My face is heating up, and I could recognize Andrews' nasal James-Norrington voice anywhere.

I turn my head soundlessly, and notice that I am wrapped from head to toe in a thick, dark grey woolen blanket. It's scratchy but it's very warm, and there is a warm, old fashioned heating pad filled willed to the brim with hot water, resting against my stomach. I moved it down to my lower abdomen, and curled up in a ball, trying to stay awake to see who he was talking to.

Of course, it had to be Robert. Who _else_ could it be? His brow is furrowed, and he is rocking anxiously back and forth on his heels. He opens his mouth and says something. Andrews' replies. "Yes, she should come to any minute now." Did he really just fall for my pathetic excuse for acting?

Yes he did.

Robert nodded, as I continued to watch them through my eyelashes. I can hear his soft voice now. "Let her rest then, she deserves it."

I'm touched to the core, I would say more, but it hurts to even think.

I close my eyes sharply, completely, as I hear his booted footsteps _thunk_ on the wooden floor as he crosses the room. I can feel his presence by my bedside. I feel him watching me, and I can hear his slow breathing and smell the leathery, masculine scent of his clothes. I feel the blanket move, he's touching it. He drags it up, covering me more, stopping when it was under my chin. His hand accidently brushes against my skin, and his touch feels like somebody dragged an ice cube across my face on a hot summer's day.

Then I hear his footsteps retreat as he walked away.

* * *

All day, people keep walking into the barracks, much to Andrews's dismay, to check up on me. Soldiers and officers, both black and white, stop by to ask me if I'm alright. It's so sweet, I'm so touched that I feel like crying 'happy tears.' The white guys were no surprise, it was really shocking when Thomas stopped by, Jupiter, both of Trips' goons, Rawlins, and Trip himself! I was so shocked I could only stare at them.

Even guys that I didn't know, including one that looks so much like Will Smith it's crazy, dropped in to say hello, until Andrews, the killjoy, ordered them out.

Each and every one of them called me 'Rio.' Except for Rawlins and Thomas.

I was confused. Why 'Rio?' Why are they calling me Rio? Is that not strange? It was only when Trip came by did I have a chance to find out. "Trip, why is everybody calling me Rio?"

He grinned in that malicious, cocky way that made most people want to wipe it off his face with their fist. "That's yo name, now, Girl!" Was all he said.

Then, I got it, I totally understood it and I could not stop grinning. The men gave out nicknames only to those who were accepted. I was accepted in to their little (seven-hundred people) circle of dudes. I was no longer 'that White Girl' anymore. I was Rio. Ever since Trip said sorry (heck, even Darth Vader had his moments) he kept his promise not to bug me anymore, and even made me a comrade. I realize I must sound like a squealing fan girl, but this is too cool! It really brightened up my day.

Rio.

It has a nice ring to it, eh? Sadly, it took me a few hours to realize that by 'Rio' they are referring to my last name, and the beautiful city of Rio de Janeiro.

Pretty cool, huh?

* * *

**Sorry about the choppy-ness to that. I was trying to write something BAM! But I am so sleep deprived it's not even funny anymore. :)**

**BTW, to those of you who aren't avid BTTF freaks like me, Jennifer is Marty's girlfriend in the movie.**

**Review please, and those of you with Glory stories, update, por favor.**


	37. Camaraderie

**Hey guys! I'm so sorry for the uber long wait, I have no excuse to offer you, other than the usual: homework, writers block, and…well…homework. Thank goodness for spring break, up at Santa Cruz, California. My brother is teaching me how to surf. Soul Surfer, ha! It's not as easy as it looks. :(**

* * *

**HeartlessVampireGir**l: Lol I know right, talk about 'awkward' on a whole different level.

**IceDragonHikari**: Lol, thank you! Don't mention it, if you ever want another one drop me a line!

**dress4m**: Thank you so much! :D

**Beagle Bug**: Thank you, but she actually DOES exist and we might run into Annie in the future...er...or the past. :D

**YaRisVamp**: Most definitely the wrong time lol. Actually, Victoria is a beautiful name, as a kid I was jealous because it means victory. Mine has several meanings, one is reflection of the sun, another is light, and yet another is sound of rain or something like that. Sadly, nothing brilliant or heroic. Oh, what's in a name? Lol

**CarminaxBuranax**: Thank you so much. I hope you break a leg in drama club. (Though please, my friend, not literally, it is not fun, a big hospital bill, and an even bigger owie.) By the way thanks for the review reply thing, PMs and reviews are my crack. Lol about the youtube thing.

**BK Love-ah**: Haha, thanks, I don't know myself, it might be, Roberts a pretty difficult person to put through words, such a complicated guy. :)

**Samantha Story**: I am dieing to get to the war part, it's going to be so fun to write. Lol I am reallu excited, but if Alex doesn't get to fight, that's an advantage, it means she gets to live. :)

**otose**: Arrgh, I hate it when I gey PMS, I become such a man-hater, lol, the war has got nothin' on me. ;D lol

**The Silverhand Alcheimist**: Lol, thank you! Don't worry, my fellow MJ fan, I'll squeeze him in there for you. :) I'm in the process of making a youtube video for Glory using the song: They don't care about us. Maybe you'd like to see it when I'm done.

**smartyjonescrzy**: Speaking of your week-long horeshows, I got to go horesback riding on Tuesday on a Santa Cruz beach where my family is currently on spring break. The guy said that I did a pretty impressive job for an amatuer, and was even more impressed when I could tell them where the pommel was (thanks to your horse expertise) Smarty, you'd be so proud of me ;) Btw, I can't believe I forgot to put in iBuprofen, which is like every girl's best friend once a month. (Sighs dramatically) ugh. Oh yes, I made Alex a little slow for the Rio uptake so that audiences who somewhat resemble her mind could understand that I was talking about the wonderful city of Rio de Janeiro. :D

**moony1981**: Thank you! lol, Rhett Butler forever!

* * *

Kendricks adjusted his round, gold reading spectacles...which he hated, and squinted at a sheet of yellowed parchment paper that he had received several days ago from the seventh Massachusetts infantry, sent by their captain-surgeon asking for new medical supplies. Kendricks dropped the slip of paper and removed his small glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, squinting again. It has been a long rainy day, twilight was settling over the land, and he was _still here_.

Though he was calm, the large quartermaster was still a bit weary from the sudden 'attack' of last week by that blasted colonel. His shelves were still lying in pieces on the floor. Blast it all! Kendricks folded the lackluster dispatch and dropped his quill plume back into the ink well. It landed in the stringy black dew with loud _plop!_ that echoed throughout the empty storehouse. The rain continued to drum rhythmatically against the tin roof, and all seemed calm and serene.

Only it wasn't.

There was a loud knock on the door, and much to Kendricks' boundless irritation, the door was pushed open without him calling out a welcome. A tall form stood silhouetted in the doorway, his face hidden in shadow. Kendricks stiffened, his hand snaking underneath his desk, searching for his revolver. The war left many penniless deserters, and he had heard of scavenger raids all across the state.

He did not want to fall victim.

The mysterious man in the doorway noticed his trigger-happy uneasiness, and his posture was immediately alert. The artfully built, broad-shouldered, slim-wasted man took one long, graceful stride into the center of the room, allowing the fire glow to bathe his face in yellow light. Serious brown eyes narrowed beneath the black visor of his navy Union kepi, and the quartermaster inhaled sharply.

Recognition flooded into his mind at a galloping speed, slamming hardly into the front skull wall of his forehead. He pulled on his collar-it suddenly seemed too tight-and fidgeted in his seat like a dunced school boy. Reluctantly, he released the handle of the revolver. "Colonel, what can I do for you?"

A dark, quiver of Shaw's lips lead to something resembling a smirk blended with a sneer; but with the swift passing of a short moment, it was expertly erased and substituted with a nonchalant, professional, stare. "We need uniforms, Kendricks." The young man looked almost amused as he said this. "I'm sure you won't object."

* * *

"Forbes! Forbes."

Forbes raised a slow, leisurely eyebrow at his frantic friend, lowering his coffee cup and gazing calmly at Charlie's stupefied expression. "What is it now?" He asked, not in annoyance.

Charlie seemed to fidget a little. "Well, Sir, Alex…" Ah yes, _Alex_, why bother asking? The very name was a woeful curse. "Well, she's…she's…" Charlie was uncomfortable as he struggled for words. "She's acting…er…_crazy_…sir." He spoke the word as if it was vile and tasted bitter in his mouth.

Forbes was unmoved, nothing out of the ordinary. "Crazy like Alex or crazy like a _normal_ human being?"

Charlie's expression drooped as he tried to pretend that wasn't amusing. "Crazy like a _normal_ one, Sir." He replied flatly

Stop calling me 'Sir', dammit. "What the devil did she do now?"

"We're not quite sure, Forbes, she was assisting Lieutenant Andrews and in the next moment was hollering and screaming bloody murder." Charlie looked panicked, again. "I'm not proud to admit this, but I'd rather not cross paths with her."

Forbes's sudden laugh-snort was so sharp it stung his nose. "Fine, Captain. Be a man, Char, let's go see."

* * *

"It's right there!"

I pointed to it, widening my eyes. "Andrews, do you not get me? It's right there!"

The guy had to be blind. How could he not see that? It was two feet in front of him and as big as my face. He was getting seriously irate, I could tell. "I'm sorry, Miss Janeiro." He didn't sound sorry, he sounded pissed. "I really don't comprehend!"

Drop the big words buddy, this is a matter of life and death, not Language Arts. "Really, it's right there!" You can't miss it, it looks like Godzilla.

"Where the devil is that Alex?"

Forbes came charging in, his eyes leveled into 'ready-to-fight-Superman' mode. My hero. I froze in my odd position that I'll tell you about in just a sec, as he entered the clinic room. He stopped short when he saw me, his eyes widening along with mine as they took in the length of me, frowning and widening repeatedly as they checked me and my situation out. I bit my bottom lip super hard.

Now I realize how utterly queer I looked.

Sadly, it was all because of a damned cricket. I am terrified of crickets. I would so go for Antietam rather than pick up and hold a stupid cricket any day. I wasn't even bothering anybody this time, promise. I was just minding my own business, until all of a sudden I see something huge and black hop around the room. I begin to panic, and I scream like a banshee when the thing bounces closer and lands right on the rubber toe of my un-civil-war-ish Converse.

I kicked and scrambled past Andrews, knocking him down in my search for refuge. Quickly, quickly, it's coming to get me! Faster, you stupid little girl, faster! My fear yelled at me and my head spun as I searched around the room for something high off the ground. I found it. There were wooden crates stacked up about six feet off the ground, one on top of the other, sticking out in odd angles and directions. I have no idea how I reached the top.

Been here ever since.

I sniffed indignantly, and pointed at a large black spot by Forbes's shoe. "Cricket."

Forbes looked down. Then, slowly, he raised his face back to look up at me. He stared at me before speaking for a long, long, long…long…long_...long_, long-long time. Then he opened his mouth, and laughter piled out. He laughed so hard that he had to sit down. Big laugher, aren't you Forbes? It annoyed me. I was on the last day of my voyage aboard the PMS Mother Nature, and I still had the feminism left in me.

"Stop laughing! Shut up! It's not funny! Kill it!" I screeched, leaning dangerously close to the edge of falling off of the boxes. Forbes looked at me and laughed some more. Charlie, however, stepped in on my behalf. With the use of his gloved hands, he picked the cricket up-that is so disgusting-and disappeared out the door way. After a few short moments, he was back, empty handed. Thank you, dear knight.

I guess it was safe to come down now.

One minor problem. I peered over the edge. "Err…guys? How do I get down?" It was easier to get up than down, I was almost eight feet off of the ground, and I had no leverage to support my descend.

Forbes sobered, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips and peering at me through them. "How did you get _up_?" He retorted.

I bit my lip, reddening slightly. "The cricket was roaring!" I exclaimed. "It was practically drooling at me. Charlie, did you see its fangs?"

Charlie's smile reflected my own. Forbes however, continued to stare at me, leaning against a wall and scrutinizing my every moment, like he was trying to be Sherlock Holmes or whatever. Suddenly, he pushed off the wall and staggered towards me. He spread out his arms. "Jump." He ordered.

"You're kidding? Right?" I hoped. His proposition was easier said than done.

"Do it." He ordered, flatly.

"No."

He sighed loudly, dropping his arms. "Come on, I'm _rescuing_ you, I'm not proposing _marriage_!"

"Dream on, Forbes, you can't make me jump." I vowed.

Forbes turned away. "Fine. I hope you like the view from up there, Alex."

That was it. That really made me mad for some reason. "You are a jerk, Forbes! You're lucky I can't reach you otherwise I'd be on you like a cheap suit!" I love Danny DeVitto.

Forbes grinned. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

I reached up to my head and threw my cap at him. It hit him in the eye. He laughed again. "Then be a big girl; climb down."

I can't. I'm scared. I narrowed my eyes. "You want me to do the impossible, and you want me to do it _alone_?"

Forbes turned to Charlie. "Regardez, mainenant que j'ai fait folle." The big bully started speaking French, and instead of being utterly clueless like me, Charlie was comprende-ing. (A/N It means: Look, now I pissed her off.)

Charlie arched an eyebrow, and then smiled. "Avez-vous une idée de comment nous devons la chercher vers le bas?" (A/N Do you have any idea how to get her down?)

Listen, fellas. I only speak two languages. English and bad English.

Why the French connection were they doing this to me? Were they trying to piss me off?

Guaranteed.

Forbes, maybe. But Charlie?

Suddenly, the crates began to wobble; I was subconsciously pushing at the wall in anger.

Oh _hell_ no.

Oh yes. I screamed as one by one, the crates came toppling down to the ground. I closed my eyes securely, gripping the crate that I was sitting on tightly until my fingers hurt, bracing myself for the hard ground. The two seconds of free fall were terrifying. I could not breathe. I stopped screaming, for that was too hard to do. Then, bam! Face, meet smelly, blood-stained floor.

The first few seconds were horribly, terrifyingly, sickening. It was the worst feeling in the world, having the wind knocked out of you. The terrible seconds passed and I felt the oxygen return to my lungs. I breathed deeply, restored. I kept my eyes closed, simply thrilled to still be alive. See, the cricket _did_ try to kill me. Now Forbes, somehow, I told you so, just didn't quiet say it.

"Miss Janeiro, are you all right?"

There is no _way_ my luck is _that bad_.

I could recognize that gently-frantic voice anywhere.

Very superstitious…writing on the walls…seven years of bad luck…bull droppings. I have enough bad luck for two centuries.

I forced myself to open my eyes, coming to level with a pair of muddy, scruffy black leather boots. One boot tapped the floor, slowly up and down; didn't take a genius to figure out that they were just a tad bit impatient. I looked up slowly. _Of course_ it was Robert. Who else would it be, eh Alex? And of course he would be impatient, you know Robert…places to go…things to do…people to harass…we know the ritual, your royal hotness.

To my surprise, his face was positively calm, not at all angry, as I thought it would be. It was smooth, the usual in-chargeness, and to my utter FML, not at all surprised with my latest episode. I grinned at him…why? Ladies and gentlemen, we've long ago established the unshakeable fact that I. Am. An. Idiot. When I die (by the rate things are going that might be next month) they'll have that line engraved on my tombstone, along with: Here lies Rio, she acquired a personality, and it killed her.

My Cheshire Cat grin loosened up a few notches, and it remained the polite, I-have-no-idea-what-you-want-so-just-please-go-away smile that non-English speaking natives wore when you, the Yankee gringo, vacationed in their country and asked them where the subway was. Robert vaulted an attractive brown eyebrow in a way that made him look a little se… yes, I am also a pervert.

He bent his slim-waisted body and extended an open hand to me. I continued to demonstrate my abnormal surplus of brilliance by going: "Ugg."

He was gentleman enough to ignore it. He reached for my hand on his own and pulled me up sharply, that I had to cling to him for a moment like an ill-minded harpy until I could find my footing. He led me to the medical bunk bed and I was still clinging to him when I realized that Forbes was laughing at me. Like, really hard. Why is it that I am his main source of entertainment? I bet David Letterman did not make people laugh in a whole night as I did in ten minutes.

"Alex." He murmured, wiping imaginary tears away from his eyes. "You are living proof that it is better to be lucky than smart." He grinned. "I can't believe you did not break any bones."

My middle finger is having a rather nasty itch coming on.

Robert watched him, unamused, and following his example I literally wiped off my smile with my sleeve and scowled at him. "Captain, Major, I'll speak with you both outside."

Oh, I see how it is…

The three men stepped outside for a few minutes, and I was trying to eavesdrop but couldn't hear a thing, so I gave up and waited for the guys to come back. Robert did not, but Forbes and Charlie stepped back in. I pounced. "Wazzup?"

Forbes turned abruptly to Charlie. "Was that English?" His face crossed in a frown and a smirk.

Bad English, honey.

I rolled my eyes and sighed good-naturedly. "What did he say?"

Charlie replied first. "He wanted to know how you ended up being sprawled on the floor." Really, Robert only shows up at my darkest moments.

I was instantly alert. "What did you tell him?" Judging by Forbes's smirk, nothing flattering.

"The truth." Says he. "That you saw a cricket and…"

"Nooooo…" I moaned.

Forbes stopped midsentence. "What's wrong with her?"

"Forbes!" I complained dramatically. "All you had to do was look him in the eye and _lie_!"

That smirk again.

Honestly, all this drama over a damned cricket…

Forbes pulled out his pocket watch, suddenly forgetting about me. He frowned. "As much as I hate to go, I must. I have to organize the distribution of pay rolls to the camp." He looked up and guess what? He smirked again. "Parting is such sweet sorrow."

"Adios."

* * *

"Shoulder arms!"

Even though Robert stood beside the sinister Sergeant Mulcahy, the situation would have been no more different if he stood alone. The man was not much for conversation, which was no surprise, but he was so unusually silent that Robert started to wonder if he was in health, judging by the normal volumes of the drill sergeant, especially during marches.

Robert felt slightly uneasy today, again, no surprise; but to him it seemed as if the entire world was on edge, waiting in barely-mustered silence, ready to crumble and tumble right on top of him, burying him with its worldly hardships. But truth be told, Robert was expecting it; he had too much good luck lately, anyway. It was like the universal dam that was holding back his victories was broken down and triumph rushed through its gates.

Robert smiled softly to himself, casting meaningful stare down at the well-tailored indigo dress pants of his navy suit. Ah, the uniforms, he could cackle with glee like a small child over a shiny new toy. Attaining the uniforms was his latest victory, and a surprisingly easy one. He and the quartermaster were becoming good friends, Robert though with an amused smirk, thanks to how often he...er..._visited_ the poor man.

Robert's thoughts were stolen by the intruder of sound, who diverted Robert's attention to his right, where the heavy crunch of boot-steps on gravel demanded his solace. He was surprised that he had heard such a symphonic detail, given the fact that the shouting officers and chattering privates were causing so much noise in trying to arrange each other in an orderly fashion.

Forbes was approaching him with confidence, but his face was twisted with an expression of hesitation. Robert stiffened immediately, his posture erect and his jaw set in preparation for another inevitable battle. His usually expressive eyes were void of emotion. The major paused a yard away from him, saluting distractedly. He stretched out a hand that was clutching a yellowed envelope fashioned out of parchment paper.

"From the War Department." He spoke shortly, damning the pleasantries.

Robert accepted it with silence, frowning out his disapproval towards it. Gracefully pulling the envelope open, he reaches in and after producing the folded sheet, scans it quietly. He can feel both Forbes's patient stare and Mulcahy's scrutinizing gaze. Just what he predicted would happen; Robert was already suffocating.

Forbes looks to him in naive hope, perfectly aware that the answer is no. "Can anything be done?"

Robert's eyes sweep over his frazzled group of soldiers. "They've got families."

Forbes sighs, accepting the 'round robin' back in to his own hands. "I know."

Robert knows as well. "We'll protest this through channels...later on." He assured his friend, turning away to examine the crowd once more.

On his way to the stairs of the wooden podium behind him, he nods towards Mulcahy. "Attention, battalion."

The Irishman becomes alive again. "Yes, sir." He barks at the crowd as Robert vaults up the short set of stairs. "ATTENTION BATTALLION!" They are silenced in a matter of obedient seconds.

Robert pauses as he opened his mouth.

Public speaking was becoming a much more agreeable task for him.

* * *

Rawlins stood calmly to the right end of the roll call rows. Each man held his own shiny new musket, clutching them tightly to their chests as if fearing someone might take them away. All were chattering loudly, shouting over each other, each man wanting to inject his two cents into the conversation. Rawlins stayed out of it, obviously old enough not to meddle in the childish affairs of grown men.

Instead, he observed the podium straight ahead, and beneath it where a group of Union-clad officers stood. His attention was mostly captured by the young colonel, frowning over a piece of paper. Beside him stood the blonde major, appearing none too overjoyed as well. Rawlins was no fool, and it did not take a Great Thinker to realize that the officers were distraught over evil tidings.

The colonel lifted his head, handing the major the degrading slip of paper and scanning the crowd. He turned back sharply and said something his blonde comrade. With a turn of his body, he issued a command towards that Irishman gliding past him and bounding up the stairs of the podium. Mulcahy, however, shouted out an attention to the men, and like magic, their quarrels were silenced. The colonel waited patiently until he was sure that he held their maximum attention, then he began to speak.

"You men enlisted in this regiment..." He licked his lips and paused, "...on the understanding..." He paused yet again, as if ashamed of what he was forced to say. "That you would be paid the regular army wage of thirteen dollars a month."

The boy seemed to look each and every one of them square in the eye. The soldiers grinned up at his solemn expression, but Rawlins was not as naive, he could feel where this was going. The young man continued. "This morning I have been notified that because you are a _colored_ regiment, you will be paid ten dollars a month." He looked helpless, as if he was sorry but there was nothing he could do about it.

Slowly, it had begun to sink in. "That ain't fair." Rawlins murmured quietly.

Jupiter, beside him, rounded his eyes in disbelief, appearing like someone had slammed him across the cheek. "They said-"

"Regiment!" Shaw shouted, regaining their attention. "Fall out by company to receive pay."

Jupiter obediently stepped forward towards the table, as well as a load of other men. Rawlins followed them with a wounded pride, knowing that they did not like it anymore than he did, but had families to feed. He approached the table in silence, drawing out his neatly folded pay check. He waited patiently until he had reached his turn, set the slip of paper on the table, and leaned forward.

"Hey! Come on, now! W-where's your pride?" He heard Trip call out to him. Rawlins ignored him, the boy was always starting problems.

The man, not an officer of the regiment, spoke in boredom through his teeth. "Make your mark right here."

"I can write my name." He told one of the quartermaster's agents.

The man looked up at him, annoyed, not wanting a play-by-play, the black feather of his hat flying into his pasty face. "Then _do_ it." He snapped.

Rawlins woke up at that moment, and with a sudden burst of pride he dropped the quill pen back on the man's desk. Rawlins stared him down, but the man was apparently much too disinterested to give him a double-take. Rawlins turned away, fuming silently and utterly insulted. They can keep their ten dollars, he would make do without them, besides, his pride would not allow him to accept it anyway.

* * *

Trip was a slave to his pride, and he did not like this one bit. He glared up at the colonel, though he knew it was not his fault, he still wanted to blame him. Anger fusing with adrenaline pulsed through every vein underneath his hard, flexing muscles. He clenched his teeth and his eyes flashed with the pounding of his heart as he caught sight of the field hand. Trip was on his case like a duck on a junebug.

"Where you going, boy?" He demanded, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

Jupiter shrugged him off. "To g-get p-paid." There was a stutter, but there was also confidence in his tone. 'Ten dollar a lot of money."

Trip licked his lips and tried to stare him down, but it was useless, the boy's mind was made up. He scanned the crowd for some other supporter. Instead, they were disappointed to land on the old man, who was also heading in line. Trip blinked, feeling like he was just punched in the gut. "Hey, pop, you fitting to lay down for this too?" He cried in disbelief when he sprinted towards him. The old man ignored him.

No. No. No.

"Fall in!"

Trip felt like he had to do something, and do it fast. They were all hypnotized by it, and he wanted to pull them out. Couldn't they see what they were doing? Uncle Sam was pissing on them without even the courtesy of calling it rain. _Colored_ regiment, ha! They could fight as well as a white soldier, if not better, and they were too stubborn to see that. What made whites so God damn better?

Some people were starting to listen. "They gonna give us but ten?" One man roared and Trip almost grinned. He worked harder for more people to 'see the light.'

"You gonna go for that!" He shouted into the air, letting it settle into the ears of his comrades. "A colored soldier can stop a bullet just as good as a white one!" He bellowed. "And for less money _too_!"

Men were nodding heads in agreement, thinking twice as they stared at their paychecks. Trip waved his in the air like a flag. "Yeah! Uncle Abe got hisself a real bargain hyah!"

He turned to one of his comrades, Jones, a man who always agreed with everything he said. "What you say, boy?"

"That's right, _slaves_!" Jones bellowed, crumpling up the small paper in his meaty brown fist. "Make your mark, get your slave wages!"

Trip's face flushed in excitement. He was getting through to them. "All you good colored boys sign up!"

He felt better when he saw the field hand frown down at his pay check. Jupiter clutched it with both hands, looking like he had a civil war raging on inside him as well. With a sigh, he did something Trip would have never expected from him, and it earned the boy Trip's extremely-hard-to-get-respect. He clutched both ends of the paper, and with a liquid movement, tore it in half.

Trip grinned. "That's right! Tear it up!"

"TEAR IT UP!"

* * *

I watched Trip in an open-mouthed, awed silence. I began to respect and admire him more now than ever before. Ladies and gentlemen, _that's_ leadership.

* * *

Robert stared at the crowd in silence, squinting at the brown, irate faces through the blinding sunlight that shone into his face. His hands were clasped behind his back, his feet planted shoulder-width apart. Restlessly, his eyes jumped from the rest of the crowd to the one rogue private, recognizing him as the one he had whipped. The colonel admired his leadership and courage.

But the crowd was getting out of hand. He needed to stop it from becoming a riot; it had already slipped from its orderly militia rows into an angry mob pit. The blue-clad officers stood off to the side, open-mouthed and at a loss of what to do. Their shiny brass buttons reflected the sunlight and also blinded Robert's vision, another problem. Attention, men, attention!

He was left with no choice. Pulling out his powerful Colt Revolver out of its holster that was stationed at his hip, Robert paused to admire the sun glint off of the intricately carved handle. It was a beautiful weapon, but once one thought of what it was meant for, the gun loses its beauty and becomes something utterly macabre. He raised it into the air…

….and fired.

Silence so issued, one that was so eerie, Robert was immobilized for a moment. The weapon's horrendously loud bang had filled his ears and jumped off of his eardrums, ringing and ringing and ringing. Was it possible for silence to be so obnoxiously loud? The troops stared at him, open mouthed, no one was breathing, everyone was waiting for his word.

Robert twirled the gun on his finger, and gracefully landed it back in its holster.

* * *

I hate to bring my feminine, young adult hormones here, but as I watched Robert do that-Clint-Eastwood-cowboy-outside-of-a-saloon-gun-flip-oh-I-can-beat-you-at-a-duel-any-day-pistols-at-dawn thing….well….he looked HOT.

* * *

Now Robert felt just a tad bit nervous. For a few seconds, he was a boy again, fearful of the world and hardly away from clinging to his mother's skirts, but as those few seconds past, he was a brave young man again, with shoulders that were strong enough to support the weight of the world, a mind calculating and alert, and a heart that was deep and sincere. He looked his men square in the eye, and hoped that what he was about to do would show them that he truly cared.

"If you men will take no pay…" He started off gravely, raising his own, handsome, paycheck into the air. "Then none of us will!" Simultaneously, he ripped his own in half, tearing it apart like the North and South. A satisfying ripping noise echoed in the air.

It paled in comparison, however, to the loud, victorious cheer that Robert received from the Fifty-Fourth Massachusetts.

It was a great honor.

* * *

It's me again, I screamed and cheered for him as well, he was being treated like a rock star before screaming fans. I was really proud of Rob, somehow I know that that takes guts, but it was a noble thing to do. I grinned up at him, and even though he could not see me, I blew him a huge kiss from the heart using both of my hands. You know this colonel thing is hard, you can't just say 'Go Go Gadget' and be done with it.

* * *

Jupiter stared up at the man in awe, before exploding into a cheer as well. Muskets and hats were raised in honor of the greatest white man who ever lived, and Jupiter could feel that there was a sort of bond, a connection, a pact made between him and the entire regiment, and the men were swept with a force of camaraderie that Jupiter had never seen before. He raised his own musket to the colonel's honor.

"Let's hear it for the colonel!" Jupiter heard Rawlins shout, along with repeated 'hoorays' from the rest of the men. Rio shouted as well, and Jupiter was sure that only he saw the kiss that she blew to the colonel. In truth, he was mighty disappointed that the grinning colonel who was squinting from the glare of the noon sun, did not see it.

He shouted along with Trip, who stood beside him, victorious and grinning.

Comrades.

* * *

**All done! Review please while I go to bed. All day in the sun really _does_ fry your brain cells. ;p**


	38. Seize the Day

***Slowly inches on stage, dodging a few rotten tomatoes. Lifts up smartyjonescrzy's borrowed 'Bag of Shame' over head. Taps mic and smiles nervously at the crowd* Hello, Ladies and gentlemen. The prodigal author has returned! Hehe...*feels awkward after getting no chuckling response from annoyed audience***

**All jokes aside, guys, I'm so sorry for taking for EVER to do this chapter. Please accept my most deepest, sincerist apology from the blackest part of my heart. :) Blame it on my teachers. I think that they were all conspiring against me and trying to give me as much homework as possible.**

**But good news is...straight A's! And even better, it's SUMMER! Wooo!**

**So, at least I'll be updating sooner. :) *bows and scurries off the stage before anyone else can throw another tomatoe***

* * *

**Dress4m**: Thank you!

**IceDragonHikari**: Thank you. If I had my way, bugs would be extinct. :) But, I did not memorize the movie all the way, :( , I watch it every week. :)

**CarminaXBuranaX**: Thanks, haha, I love making people laugh. And bees ARE scary. :D

**Anonymous**: Thank you! Yes, that scene was greatly delivered in the movie, I agree.

**The Silverhand Alchemist**: Thank you! I'll see what I can do.

**HeartlessVampireGirl**: Thank you, unfortunately, that was how I used to react to crickets, lol.

**Beagle Bug**: I know I promised Annie, :) she is in the next chapter which I already started typing. :)

**BK Love-ah**: Haha, I totally hate spiders, the worst is when you find one in the shower. Ewww. It's like arachnus deathicus…lol.

**Otose**: I know right! Ugh…spiders…no me gusta. :)

**YarisVamp**: You crack me up! Lol about the cricket on steroids thing. And yay for Romeo and Juliet!

**LittleMackey**: I will, thanks!

**Smartyjonescrzy**: No smarty, it's my turn to wear the bag of shame, hand it over. :) I've been such a terrible person, it's been like…a month? Congratulations on graduation girl! Any idea about college yet? Ugh, I still have one more bloody year left! I hate AP classes. :) Speaking of spiders in the showers, I found one last night, after the horribly terrifying experience, I'm debating on whether or not to live without showers. *Shudders* Scariest moment of my life. :)

**Hannah**: Thank you. I wonder how Robert would feel in the movie if he DID see her blow him that kiss? Hmmm…. :)

**Austin830**: Thank you! That means a lot!

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**Kiralol101**: Thank you for the review, it totally made my night when I read it. I'm glad it made you laugh, I love it when that happens. And I'm sorry for not updating sooner.

**Wolfpirate13**: Thank you so much for the review! I'm so glad that you liked it and I will definitely continue this. Don't worry, lol, ramblers are much appreciated by me! :)

**SamanthaStory**: Thanks! I have this whole story planned out already, so don't give up hope just yet! :)

**NoNameReviewer**: Thank you! That makes two of us about fanfiction, lol. And I will definitely try to update sooner. :)

**Animegirl1220**: Thank you so much! I definitely will continue! :)

**Anonymous**: Wow, twice! I can't tell you how flattered I am. :) Thank you so much!

**BreeilnaBane N The Apprentice**: Thank you so much, this means a lot. I am so appreciative to you for the review. Thank you!

* * *

Robert was feeling generally good about his life right now, despite the fact that the men had been lowered in pay; he was glad that it ended so well, without a mutinous riot on his hands. He reclined lazily in his chair behind a dull maple desk, staring up at the ceiling. More often than not, Shaw felt exhausted, but today, things were a bit different. True, he was still weary, but in a different, _better_ way, like he had actually _accomplished_ something _worth_ accomplishing, and the effort had wiped him out.

He smiled softly to himself. The uniforms were delivered several hours before, and he would present them to the regiment during the twilight roll call. Robert was _glad_ that he had visited the quartermaster again; more civil this time than the last, for he vowed that no one ever again should underestimate the things that he could do. He was not a shy, fearful little boy, but a grown man that had the power to stand up for something he believed in. In turn, he believed that if he continued to do so, his men would start to trust him, and he so craved their trust.

Forbes entered his quarters at that very moment like he bloody owned the place, as he did every time he decided to grace Robert with his honorable presence. But the colonel did not feel like yelling at him for not knocking or asking permission or just treating him like his commanding officer, frankly, he was in too much of a good mood to care. Forbes paused right in front of his desk, planting his feet shoulder-width apart. His face was grim to a fault as he thrust out a travel-worn envelope, his gloved hand quivering a bit as he waited for Robert to accept the message. Charlie followed in behind him.

_Good Lord what now?_ Robert began to panic as he jerked up in his chair as if stung. He collected the envelope from Forbes, who in the most gruesome tone possible, murmured. "You fell for that horrible acting, Colonel?"

Robert blinked, unable to comprehend. "_What?_"

Forbes looked back at Charlie, and the two exchanged a loaded glance. They started laughing, well, at least Forbes did, and Charlie only chuckled for concern of pushing his friend's buttons too hard. The major forced himself to sober for a moment. "Read it, Robert."

Robert eyed him in distrust, but followed his advice. Easily snapping off the red wax seal which was engraved with the official stamp of the United States War Department, he released its hold on the envelope flap and turned it upside down, letting a thick sheet of hot-pressed paper slide into his open palm. He glanced at Forbes, who seemed almost giddy with excitement, and decided to punish him by deliberately taking ages to unfold the paper. However, the task didn't take as long as he would have hoped, and soon enough, Robert was forced to read it.

March 4th 1863

To: Col. Robert Gould Shaw of the 54th Massachusetts Infantry. Boston-Readville, Massachusetts

From: United States War Department: Secretary of War, Simon Cameron; Washington D.C

Subject: Grant of Regimental relocation for the 54th Massachusetts

Upon reading the subject, Robert leaned forward on his elbows in unbreakable interest, blocking out Charlie's presence and ignoring Forbes completely.

Dear Sir,

Upon your request for a location transfer of the 54th Massachusetts, the United States Department of War (U.S.D.W.) hereby agrees to grant your request to dispatch regiment southward to Beaufort, South Carolina. I regret to inform you, however, that U.S.D.W is unwilling at this time to grant your request of deployment to southern combat lines. The 54th regiment shall be transferred to the south on Tuesday June 9th, 1863. Your troops will remain stationed in South Carolina until further notice. U.S.D.W. would like to congratulate you on behalf of reaching the status of becoming an official Union regiment.

Regards,

Simon Cameron

Secretary of War

Washington D.C

Robert lowered the paper slowly, and his friends doubted that they had ever seen a wider grin in their twenty-give-or-take years. Robert did not even _dare_ to dream that his day could get any better. He regretted that he was not a child anymore, because he certainly felt the need to act like one, running about the place hollering, cheering, and laughing because he received a shiny new toy for his birthday. Though he was old enough to restrain himself, he was young enough to appreciate how hard he had fallen for Forbes' impressive talents of lying-and nearly scaring him to death-with the prank he pulled on him in the matter he delivered the letter.

"Forbes?" Robert mocked with a grin. "Hasn't your mother ever told you it isn't polite to try to fool others?"

Forbes made a big show of pretending to whisper to Charlie. "Says he who fooled forty men and ladies with a ballroom cross-dressing act at seventeen."

Robert grinned. "I was able to fool _you_, Forbes." He retorted.

Forbes smirked, but there was an indignant tone in his voice. "Don't flatter yourself Robert. It was not difficult to see that you weren't a woman." A slow smile spread across the blonde's handsome features. "You looked awful. Frankly macabre."

It was Robert's turn to smirk. "I was propositioned by three men!"

At a loss for a better reply, Forbes changed the subject back to the original. "Even _you_ have to admit, Robert, that that _was_ a good joke."

"He who would pun would pick a pocket!" Robert quoted, but in vain, for his retort only gained Forbes and Charlie fresh peals of laughter. Robert could not help but smile as well.

It was unnecessary for the major to generate a comeback, however, as the bugle call sounded in announcement for supper.

Robert stood up, stretching. "Out! The both of you!"

Forbes raised his eyebrows in amusement, and Robert felt that somehow, he and his friends reconnected those fifteen minutes after being aloof and emotionally away from each other for several long weeks. After the two made no attempt to move, Robert made his voice overly commanding. "Go! Go!" His mouth pulling up at one corner. "I shall see you both at twilight roll call."

This time Forbes reacted, and he turned to the captain. "Come, Charlie, _Caesar_ has spoken."

Robert chuckled as they both backed out.

* * *

Jupiter patted his full stomach affectionately; glad to receive its third daily fill after long hours of drilling and camp chores. Though supper was _not_ fit for a baron, it was enough for Jupiter, consisting of a small ration of beans, hard tack, and dried meat that tasted like it had been spending most of its life soaking in salty sea water. Jupiter never complained. He knew that it was better than what he was used to eating-after being released from his plantation home because the white folks couldn't afford to feed so many slaves anymore.

He wouldn't mind another helping of dinner, to tell the truth.

He was in 'A Company' which would naturally go before 'B Company', and all were previously in line waiting for twilight roll call to start-and-finish so that everybody could go about their business. Jupiter yawned, rubbing his eyes, waiting for his turn to be called. They were standing in front of the stage again, where they had stood that very morning during pay day, and the colonel was standing at the bottoms of the steps, rocking back and forth on his heals next to an officer juggling several large white sacks in his hands,

"Rawlins!" The officer in charge of roll call shouted.

"Sir!" The old man replied without skipping a beat.

"Searles!" Obviously this was going in alphabetical order.

The house nigger firmly replied, "Sir!"

"Sharts!"

Jupiter stiffened; the epitome of attention. "S-sir!"

Ah, _The Stutter_, it was embarrassing, but it was unavoidable. He waited patiently for the rest to finish, and when the last name was called, he mentally sprang up, ready to leave. Unfortunately, they were ordered to remain stationary…whatever that means…but with a look around, told him to remain where he was. His mental energy went to sleep again, and he slouched his shoulders, the rest of his body still alert, as he squinted up at the powder-blue late-evening sky that was slowly being dotted with diamond stars.

He looked back down, front and center. His eyes found Rio first, leaning against the stairs of the podium, appearing to be just as sleepy as he felt. He transitioned his gaze to the colonel, who caught his attention with movement. He was reaching for one of the cotton-white bundles, taking two off of the other man's hands with his own strong grip. Jupiter, through his fatigue, was slowly aware that the colonel was moving forward.

Towards _him_.

The young man paused less than a yard away from Jupiter, and all that the stunned private could do was blink in astonishment. The colonel, however stunned as well, was confident in his actions, though his face betrayed a look of acute shyness as he handed one of the bundles to Jupiter. Jupiter was relieved that he wasn't in trouble; and he slowly accepted the package from him, feeling like the whole world was watching.

His fingers shook as he tried to undo the tight knot that held the package in place. Several times his clumsy digits slipped, and he flinched, remembering how angrily the colonel reacted several weeks ago when he used him as a demonstration for weapon training. This time, however, Shaw waited patiently, his eyes on the package that with a final, firm tug, was finally undone. Jupiter held his breath, pulling the white scraps of cotton away to reveal…

…a blue suit.

_The_ blue suit. He could not have released his breath even if his life depended on it, and as the seconds crawled past for his oxygen-deprived body, eventually, it _would_ become life-dependent. For a moment, the colonel and everybody else were forgotten. He trailed his fingertips over the shiny black buttons, the soft, cotton material, appreciating the brilliant, indigo shade of the deep, dark blue. He was overwhelmed with gratitude, for the Lord knew that there was nothing more-short of food-which Jupiter had been wanting.

A slow, deliberate grin brightened up his features, and he raised his head to look at the colonel square in the eye. Shaw had been chewing on his bottom lip, waiting for a good or bad reaction that would come out of this. Jupiter gave him the best he had in him, and it was contagious. The colonel did not hesitate as he returned a tentative smile, and for the second time today, the young 'nigger-beatin'-white-boy' had proven his worth.

* * *

_One week later_…

"_Where_ does Alex sleep, again?" Charlie grumbled, groggy from sleep deprivation, and none too excited to go back to the barracks. "I can't see anything in the dark." He yawned.

Forbes rolled his eyes, returning the contagious yawn. "You _still_ don't know where her bunk is?"

Charlie only blinked, dumbly.

"Just follow that atrocious snoring." Forbes tried, but to no avail. He tried to stare his friend down, and he was glad to succeed. "Forget it. Don't bother, _I'll_ go."

If you want something done, make your friends do it. If you want something done _right_, you have to do it yourself.

His personal philosophy.

It was _his_ job anyway, since Alex could not wake up to the bugle call to save her life. He stepped outside of the mess hall, into the dim light of the morning and crossed the small avenue between the cafeteria and the officer's barracks. He removed the flap of heavy cotton that served as a door out of his way and stepped inside of the dark, musty sleeping quarters. Only one form was still laying in a cot…Alex. Who bloody else?

Forbes sighed, stomping over to her bunk. Since the regiment was official, they were to have their official 'march'-or whatever Robert said-to signify their existence. The entire Beacon Street had been preparing for their arrival, which was later this very morning. They were to camp outside of Boston for the few following days, then progress to South Carolina. Forbes was hardly excited, it meant less sleep, and by the looks of Alex's dreaming expression, it would not go well on her either.

He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned over her. "Forgive the disturbance, your majesty, but would you care to rise out of bed?"

She didn't even stir.

Forbes blinked. "Madam, I beg thee to indulge us with the opening of your lovely eyes." He smirked.

Again, no reward for his efforts.

He frowned. She was a lot easier at waking up usually; perhaps it was because of the bugle call that sounded almost two hours earlier than normal, depriving her of an extra two hours worth of sleep. The major shrugged, and being the brilliant strategist that he was, decided to change his tactics. Slowly reaching out to her, he put a hand on her shoulder and gently shook it. She grimaced in her sleep, and rolled away from him. He sighed and strolled around her cot to face her again. He shook her shoulder again, slightly harder.

"Miss Janeiro. Alex. Rio. Whatever you're calling yourself this week…_arise_!" He ordered, in a tone that suggested he was preparing for battle.

She muttered something about how Edward should just go die in a hole.

Forbes arched an eyebrow. What on _earth_ was a Cullen? He shook her as hard as he dared. This _time_, however, he received a reaction, but it was not one that he had expected. She opened her eyes slowly, as if in pain, and scowled as she raised his eyes to his. Suddenly, she paled, and her eyes rounded. She drew in a deep breath and screamed so loudly that Forbes' ears started to ring, drawing back a fist, she propelled it straight into his right eye.

Forbes staggered back, clutching at the smarting part of his face and moaning. Suddenly, she sat up, and Forbes automatically shielded his other eye. She squinted in the dim light. "_Forbes?"_

"No, of course not, what makes you think _that_?" He hissed through his teeth, massaging his wounded eye in small circles.

* * *

My hand flew up to cover my mouth.

"Forbes!' I exclaimed, wincing as if _I _was the one hit instead of _him_. "I'm _so_ sorry!"

He only nodded, refusing to look at me.

"Forbes, are you all right?" I asked, genuinely concerned. I hopped off the bed and sprinted towards him.

"No, I'm _not_ all right!" He grunted, still clutching at his eye.

Seriously, men can be _such_ babies.

I sighed. "Let me look at it." I offered.

He chose that moment to go all macho on me. "Tis nothing, just a scratch."

I rolled my eyes. Ha! And I thought _I_ was bipolar!

"Fine." Be that way. I walked past him towards the exit. "Is it time to go?"

"I believe they're lining the up the men as we speak." He grunted, pulling out his pocket watch. "The marching begins at ten o'clock on the dot, it's almost eight thirty."

I nodded. "And how long does it take to get to Boston…er…Beaker Street?"

"Beacon Street." He corrected. "About half-hour, maybe forty-five minutes."

"I see." We stepped out and into the light, making our way towards the cafeteria. I turned towards him to say something, but at the sight of what I saw made me drop it. I stared at him, shocked, open-mouthed.

He frowned when he noticed me gaping. "What?"

"F-Forbes!" I pointed at his eye. "I gave you a bruise!"

Forbes' hand flew up to cover his eye. "What?" He repeated. "How?"

But it was there. It was a shade of dark lavender, with a bit of indigo starting to creep in around the corners. "Geez, Forbes, you really took a hit, didn't ya?"

Forbes groaned, his hand not leaving his right eye, hiding his embarrassing wound. "Really, Alex, of all days you have to pick this one! We're marching today!"

Oh yes, and you've got to see Susannah.

"If it's any consolation, Forbes, the blue in it brings out your eyes nicely." Ouch. I honestly don't think that was a very smart thing to say.

Forbes glared at me.

I wasn't making fun of him, I swear I wasn't, I was just trying to talk my way out of it. But I can't. I'm _not_ a smooth talker. It is at times like these that I wish so badly that I was superhuman; perhaps a superhero or _at least_ a villain. If I could be one, I would honestly choose to be Megamind. I see a lot of Pros to this. He is _less_ clumsy. He is _way_ smarter. He _is_ a smooth talker, and can get away with anything…('cept prison.) And he is _such_ a good liar. The only con is the giant blue head.

"You know what? I'll just keep my mouth shut from now on, how's that?" I suggested, cringing under his laser-eyed stare.

His frown turned upside down slowly. "You do that."

* * *

It was nearly two hours later that Robert found himself atop of Glory on the outskirts of Boston, seated tall and proud on an equally tall and proud horse. It was a beautiful animal, obedient yet somehow free, its powerful body relaxed for the moment, patiently waiting for his master's commands. With the last of Mulcahy's brutal calls, the entire regiment was finally reassembled into a slightly different style of marching rows. There were exactly thirteen men in each row, which Robert learned from his father as a boy, were meant to symbolize the original thirteen colonies and were commonly used by the old fellows in the Revolution.

Robert nudged Glory with his heels, digging them gently into the animal's generous belly. Immediately, the steed lurched forward, calmly following the orders that were given to him through the language of Robert's reins. As the colonel, he was to ride in the frontal rows, save for the flag bearers and the drummer boys that were to go before him. He guided Glory to his designated spot, catching sight of Forbes. Robert furrowed his brow, the major's eye was a darker shade of blue than his uniform could ever be.

Robert made a mental note to inquire about that later. Instead, he raised his gleaming saber, watching the weapon silently slice through the air, glint wickedly in the sun, and immediately earn the regiment's attention. He took a deep breath of the treasured air, enjoying the sensation that filled his lungs and emptied them just a few moments later. This was it. The young colonel caught the steely eye of Sergeant Mulcahy, and nodded at him to signal the order to march.

* * *

Okay, I am genuinely scared now; I hope nobody really sees this. I'm on Charlie's fat, stupid horse, the one that threw me off several times in one day. I'm lucky I didn't damage my spinal cord. Charlie is on it with me, even though he looks as cool as a cucumber-or whatever-while I look like I have 'Freshman' and 'Rookie' written all over me. I'm clinging so tightly to his jacket that he had to shake me off a few times, saying that I'll pull us both down if I keep doing that. But I can't help it. I have developed a bloody phobia for his bloody horse.

Forbes, who is driving ahead of us, keeps glancing back of his shoulder and smirking at me. I guess that's payback for the black eye. I'm debating on whether or not it's worth flipping him off, I finally decide not to do it…there's _way_ too many witnesses. Hundreds of cheering 1800'sners are packed together, pushed up against the walls of the streets to let us pass through. People are shouting praises at us, and with a spark of vanity, I closed my eyes and imagine how it would feel like if they were cheering for _me_.

Robert, on the other hand, looks totally nonchalant, as if he experiences this kind of attention every freaking day. He's not even puffed up with pride for the Fifty-Fourth. His face is utterly blank and unfazed, as if this was not worth celebrating, or at least a smile. I know for a fact that if they truly _were_ cheering for me, I would totally be totally strutting it, putting on a show that was as loud and dramatic as Elvis mixed with Las Vegas. _Thank-you-very-much, ladies and gen'lemen, you've been a won'erful audience._

There was a loud marching band that's playing some familiar patriotic song that I don't know the name of; and small white pieces of confetti sprinkle down from the balconies above us and settle our shoulders like snow. Gee, I'm going to have a lot of fun picking _that_ out of my hair. All you see is red, white, and blue everywhere you look, swirling around, banners hanging off of ever door and balcony. Children wave tiny Union flags in the air, as I wave at _them_. Despite my dilemma with Charlie's noble steed, I can't help but loosen up a little and grinning ginormously.

Up in the balconies of the elegant Victorian houses, ladies with hoop skirts of silk and lace hang on the arms of senior gentlemen in coats with shiny top hats, watching us proudly from above. But it is the old men and women on the streets _below_ that catch my attention. They crowd the street on both sides, a few feet away from me; if I reached out enough I could touch one of them. There is an expression of hope on their faces and tears of joy in their eyes, as every one of those African-American women-most of them probably ex-slaves-search our marching rows with desperate eyes in hopes of getting just one, small glimpse of their men.

It was a pleasant thought, beautiful even, for the women of the Civil War did not suffer any less than their men. Perhaps, not all of them were in pain _physically_, but the loss of a loved one who meant the world to you would hurt more than you can bear. I tried to blend in with Charlie, pulling my navy kepi low over my eyes, and hoping that the blue of my uniform jacket would disappear amidst the blues of the men. I did not want to stand out because I was a girl in britches, and people don't really accept that. Besides, I was still sore over the time when those guys started making fun of me when we first got to Camp Readville, and I shouted the 'your mom' thing to them.

Gasp! You will never believe what I just saw. As we were passing Mulcahy in the bystander's line, I saw him smile! With my own two eyes! Swear to the lord above, I did, he actually smiled! Quick! Alert the press! I smiled back at him, I'm not sure why, but he didn't see me. Nope, never mind, I lied, he just nodded at me.

Charlie's unicorn…_horse_ suddenly jerked abnormally just to piss me off, and for a minute I cling to the captain like a sailor to a lifeline. I heard something like a cross between a sigh and a chuckle, before Charlie reached back to loosen my hands from his jacket, telling me to chill the freak out, only he said it in a more fancy and elegant and polite manner.

* * *

It was one of those moments when you know that someone is cheering for _you_. Those moments where you force yourself to be serious, but the muscles on your face involuntarily turn up in a smile. Thomas was at that moment. He was doing everything that they were supposed to be doing, head high, shoulders back, hands at the seams.

It had been a miserable few months. He was beaten, yelled at, and humiliated before a large group of people, and he learned a very valuable life lesson the hard way. Life was _not_ fair. And no one knew that better than Thomas. But he had come out of that in the lead. Those shouting drill sergeants were brazen but had good intentions.

They made a _real_ man out of Thomas Searles, who was now marching proudly in row three of A Company. Confetti floated through the air and landed on his straightly-carried shoulders, the tiny, white circles of paper in noticeable contrast with the blue darkness of his uniform. Thomas was proud of what he had become. He was an American soldier, and to him, that was an honor.

* * *

Trip bit his lip as his eyes scanned the crowd for someone he knew. It felt out-of-place for him to be here, but the private would never be able to appreciate the moment until he had found _her_. Perhaps she did not know that they were marching today. Perhaps she had forgotten. Or perhaps she simply could not come.

Trip did not give up hope so easily, however. He narrowed his eyes and searched the crowd more vigilantly. To his unspeakable surprise, he had found her in less than twelve seconds this time. It was Marion. His friend whom he was madly in love with. She did not know that, unfortunately, that she was so beautiful and the light of his world. Trip wasn't the kind of man to weave pretty words together.

He had met her here in Boston, months and months and months ago. He did not tell her that he loved her because he could not risk making her a heartbroken sweetheart or a soul-broken widow. She had a handkerchief pressed to her face and tears were forming in her eyes as she watched him. That was the conformation Trip needed.

She loved him.

* * *

Some people say a man is made out of mud. Some people say that poor man's made of muscle and blood, skin and bones, a mind that's weak and a back that's strong. But this regiment would prove them wrong. Frederick Douglass could feel it, especially when he looked at his son, Lewis Douglass he was filled with fatherly pride for the son that was fighting for their freedom.

His son Lewis, a handsome young man in his early twenties, held his head high and his jaw set in determination, his marching movements sharp and in sync with the drums of the marching band. He held his eyes forward, not steering them away from the front, like an agent on a mission. Frederick nodded at him when the command was given for the troops to look right.

Frederick Douglass placed a hand over his heart, his way of saluting, as the officers and politicians in the groups beside him raised a hand to their forehead in the standard army salute. Frederick's eyes found the colonel, and he gave the young man a slow nod, congratulating him on his sky high accomplishment.

* * *

Mulcahy stood a ways a part from the crowd. He was an old man now. Almost eight and forty. He had two children of his own, a boy named Peter, age twelve, and a girl named Molly, age ten. His wife Mary was nearing forty three. Mulcahy missed them. He wanted to go home and spend time with his family, after many months of hard work.

He watched the men proudly, like a father watches his children. He had shouted in their faces, spat on their shoes, and swore at their simple-minded naïvetés. He had beaten the knowledge into them, sometimes literally, so that they would understand that life on the battlefield was not a Sunday outing with one's mother.

Though their marching was impressive, there was still work to do. Though their discipline was better, he still had to break them. But as the old sergeant watched his shabby group of miscreants that he had strived to transform into strapping young soldiers, he felt enlightened. It was like an invention, his creation, which had finally worked! Though there was still more ahead of them, Mulcahy knew that his work, here at least, was finally done.

* * *

Robert's heart started to pound eagerly in his chest as he neared his family's mansion. He could already see the balcony, protruding from the second floor of the house, decorated with red white and blue banners of the United States. He could see the shapes and outlines of men and ladies leaning over the edge, waiting to catch a glimpse of him.

He had to resist the urge to speed up Glory, knowing that that would not look very professional; instead, he pulled out his silver saber, listening to the _wooshing_ sound it made when it sliced the air, thick with streams of confetti. It glinted in the sun, smiling blindingly at the crowd, as Robert gripped it's intricately engraved tang. Yellow tassels of decoration swung wildly as Robert pointed the blade forward, keeping his arm taut until they had reached the line of vision of his childhood home.

"Eyes right!" He ordered in rhythm, a hundred heads snapped in that direction in sync with his own neck.

There they were. He saw his dear mother first, a lacy bonnet on her head and her hand over her heart, smiling affectionately down at him. His father came second, his hand over his heart as well, saluting his son proudly. His sister Susannah waved wildly at him, and her bright smile was contagious. His other younger sisters, Josephine and Ellen stood off to the side of the group, smiling and waving tiny flags. His older sister Anna was holding her six month old infant, looking like a happy mother. And then came Annie Haggerty. She was a beautiful woman, and one of his closest friends, but Robert was surprised of himself that he did not think of her earlier. He used to be quiet infatuated with her.

Robert had a thin film of tears in his eyes as he looked at his blessed family which was trying to hold back tears as well. But Robert kept his head high, shoulders back, and heart as far away from his sleeve as possible. He would see them tonight before his regiment left for South Carolina. He missed them, and he wanted to say goodbye.

For who knows how long until they meet again?

* * *

**Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Thank you so, so, so much! It made me feel guilty, spoiled, and downright aweful for not updating sooner, but that's a good thing. I'll be updating faster now. I already started the next chapter! :) Review please :) your opinons are very important to 'us' :) lol**


	39. Hit the Road, Alex

**Samantha Story**: Lol, 38 chapters is pretty long though, gonna have to wrap it up around the 54th one. (My goal) Thank you! :)

**AnimeGirl1220**: Thank you so much! I kind of have an idea by how the big battle scene is going to go, and, to be honest, I'm itching to write it! :D BTW, thanks a lot for the DirectTV thing, I caught the one at four o'clock. Did you watch it?:)

**Beagle Bug**: Thank you! Seriously, when I read this it took me an hour to stop grinning like a fool. :)

**Otose**: Thank you! Espanol es muy dificil para mi, but I try. :) Yes, I totally can't wait to read more on the adventures of Jane and Nat. They are HI-LAIR-IOUS! :)

**YarisVamp**: Just for that, every future Charlie moment shall be dedicated to you, lol. Thank you! :)

**Lovemusic2**: Thanks a bunch! I also wanted to thank you for reviewing 'Ghost Whisper', I'm glad I brought tears into your eyes...wait, that sounded aweful, but I'm sure you know what I mean. :)

**wolfpirate13**: Thank you for your honesty. Please let me know how I can improve on it. :)

**BreeilnaBane**: Aww, thank you so much, your reviews totally brighten up my day and even help during writer's block. Thank you, it truly means a lot to me. :)

**HeartlessVampireGirl**: Aarrgh! Fail on my part, I thought I would be less busy during the summer, but noooo, Writer's Block had to come along and...well...you get it. Happy Seriously-Belated Birthday! I hope you got everything that you wanted and I wish you the best in life! :) Did you get the Collecter's Editition of Glory?

**Clark3**: Haha, thank you! Yay! Someone noticed the chapter title! Isn't Latin a beautiful language?

**CarminaXBuranaX**: Thanks a lot, not everyone thought that way about the chapter. :) I couldn't remember the name of Frederick Douglass' son that served in the 54th, but when I looked it up, it said Frederick Douglass Jr. Never trust Wikipedia. I changed it back when I found the right answers. Thanks for reviewing Ghost Whisper...I'm glad I made you cry...you know what I mean, lol. :)

**IceDragonHikari**: Yes! You have a fantastic memory my friend! When was the last time you have watched the movie? :) But, if I must admit it, Edward is undoubtedly hot. :)

**BK Love-ah**: I know right, I really hope that you did well on those finals! :)

**smartyjonescrzy**: Wow, smarty, looks like you have life already cut out for you. I take it that you got accepted to the University of Kentucky? With YOUR grades, I haven't a doubt about it. :) When you manage your own farm do you plan on staying in Kentucky/Ohio? I hope to get accepted to Stanford Medical School and spend the rest of my days in California. The letter of Simon Cameron, *head drops in shame*, was unfortunatly NOT an actual copy, I just researched who the Secretary of War was and tried to make the letter sound high-toned and fancy. :) Chapter 38...hehe...I have to learn to wrap it up, my goal is to get to Chapter 54 (get it?) and I have it all planned out. :)

**Honeybee4Eva**: Thank you, BTW your new avatar is adorable. :)

**kiralol101**: Thank you, I adore it when someone thought my deviant humor is funny, lol. I hope those finals went well for ya! :)

**landsharkkid**: Thank you! Yes, Matthew Broderick is smexy! Or was anyway... :)

* * *

"Hey, Forbes, wait up! Where are you going?"

We had marched to a new, temporary camp two miles up the coast; we were to wait there until the day after tomorrow, where the entire regiment would board several steamboats and trek down south to Southern Carolina. I was excited because we would be in enemy property. I wasn't the only one who was jittery. The entire camp felt on edge, ready to burst in spontaneous cheering.

Personally, I was glad that the day was almost over, even the march through Boston – it was history. Hehe…literally.

I noticed Robert leave the camp atop of Glory about ten minutes earlier, and now Forbes was going too. I have too much curiosity for my own good, and after sitting around with nothing but Andrews's anti-women ravings to listen to, I was hoping that Forbes would be able to provide tonight's entertainment.

When he heard me shout, my friend tugged on the reins of his stallion, squinting his eyes beneath the black visor of his kepi, watching me jog to him. The corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile when I was standing in front of his horse, staring up at him. With a sweeping gesture, he mockingly tipped his hat to me.

"Forbes, where are you going?" I repeated, playing with the USA engraving on his boot.

Again, he grinned, looking comical with one purple eye. Sorry darling, my fault. "Why the sudden interest?"

Because I ran out of feminist comebacks to Andrews's women-can't-do-shit remarks. I shrugged. "Oh, just wondering." I read in a phycology textbook once that if you act like you don't care, people will tell you.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm proud to say it worked on Forbes! "I'm riding to the Shaw mansion." Robert left several minutes ago, and I wanted to join him." BS, Forbes, you just wanted to see Susannah.

I arched an eyebrow. "Oh really?" I asked. "Can I come?"

He smirked, leaning his body forward slightly. "I don't know, _can_ you?" He teased.

Was he really going to do the can I, may I thing? I sighed, exaggerating the roll of my eyes. "Take me with you."

He offered me a hand, and pulled me up on the horse's back. "It would be my pleasure." He stated the phrase in an overly flamboyant manner to show me that he was teasing.

"Thank you." Groan. Not again. I thought, as I tried to find a comfortable position on the horse.

"You're welcome." After just a few seconds of silence, he spoke up again. "After all, knowing your fondness for horses..."

"Aaargh!"

He held on to the reins, laughing.

* * *

The crowds had long parted, and the long strip of town road known as Beacon Street was littered with the red white and blue remains of confetti and miniature banners with broken sticks. Robert felt that someone should have picked them up, the American flag, not matter how small, does not belong on the ground. No, too many people have died to keep it up.

Robert's heart leapt as he reined Glory in before the property of his own house. An iron gate still stood between him and the lawn, and Robert almost jumped it aboard Glory in his own eagerness. However, being rational and of course thinking about his mother's precious flower bed which was neatly displayed on the other side of the gate, he slid off of the horse's back and tied the rein's securely around the wrought-iron fence.

The young colonel hardly noticed himself bound quickly up the wide granite steps, trying not to trip over his own two feet as he raced to the front door. He only had to knock once. The large, French double doors swung open immediately, revealing Harriet, one of the Shaw's maids that was his sisters' chaperone.

"Colonel Shaw!" She exclaimed in pure delight, reaching out and pulling him into the house. "Look how you've grown! So handsome, meant to break every poor girl's heart!"

Robert flushed, giving her a small, quick smile, shaking his head back and forth. Harriet had been under the Shaw parents' employment for almost thirty years, dating back as his mother's chaperone, and now his sisters, marrying two off already. He gave her his coat and hat, allowing her to put it away for him.

He thought he visit his family alone this quiet evening, but only seconds later, he heard two sets of feet clambering up the steps outside of the door. Robert wondered if he was that loud as well. He turned his torso just in time to see Harriet open the doors to reveal Forbes and Alex, flushed and laughing-as usual. They grew a slightly bit more serious when they saw him, but Robert smiled softly to show that it was alright.

* * *

I turned to Forbes, lowering my voice so that Robert wouldn't hear. "Hey, Forbes, are you sure it's okay for us to be here?" When we walked in, everybody immediately stopped to stare at us. See? This is what happens when you use the front entrance.

Forbes mocked my whisper with his own. "As if you honestly care, Alex."

I smacked his arm, irritated that he didn't even wince. I changed the subject. "I bet you're really anticipating seeing Susannah, aren't you?" Oh Susannah, now don't you cry for me…for I'm bound for California with a banjo on my knee…

Totally.

Forbes snorted sharply, causing me to look up. "I would have been much more excited if I didn't have a rather unattractive scarlet bruise on my eye."

"Let it go, Forbes!" Honestly, men are such babies.

My major friend chuckled and walked away from me, towards Robert. Within seconds, they were attacked by a whole lot of weeping women, crying tears of joy from being reunited. In truth, I have never before felt so much of an outsider. It felt like I was intruding on their privacy, and feeling sullied and unusual, I turned away from them,

However, my me-lon-cho-lly did not last very long. No sooner had I turned away to admire the Shaw's phenomenally ugly wallpaper, than my name was called. "Miss Janeiro! It's so good to see you!"

It was Susannah's voice, filled with bubbly, mirthful blondness. She touched my jacketed elbow and turned me around to face her. She was exactly my height, with gorgeous brown eyes and flawless pale skin. I remembered how pale skin was prized in this era, and I suddenly felt so dirty and disgusting, standing there in my ripping jeans and farmer tanned skin.

"Alex." I corrected her softly, giving her a smile.

She then surprised me. She wrapped her arms around me and gave me one big hug, swaying slightly as she held me to her. I was stunned at first, but then the feeling returned to my hands and I returned the hug, patting her calico-covered back. It felt like years since I've been hugged, and in truth, I had longed for affection after many days of bullying by Trip and humiliation before the eyes of the camp.

I felt a little bit teary eyed, but I quickly blinked the watery film away when I noticed Robert watching me over his mom's shoulder. I felt stupid again, and agitated. Is it just me, or did my hormones decide to come bite me in the donkey today? Life hates me. I buried my face in Susannah's comforting shoulder, but when I looked up again, the colonel was staring at someone else.

I let go of Susannah, and my eyes followed Robert's clear-blue line of vision. It was a woman, of course, if it was a dude that would have just been…weird. But this chick was gorgeous; she looked like Watson's girlfriend in Sherlock Holmes, only a lot younger, and honey, way prettier. Her hair was a dark red bordering on brown. It was swept off her face into a high bun, several curls dangling loosely out of it.

Her skin was alabaster pale, and again I tugged on the sleeves of my stained Union jacket trying to cover up my atrocious tan. I dragged a sleeve across my face, wishing that I did a better job of washing it this morning, no matter how ice-cold and hypothermia-inducing it was. Her eyes were a dark forest green, and she was watching me with amusement. Oh Lord, this is making me uncomfortable. Then her eyes found Robert's, and I swear, the green pair glowed with worship when she looked at him.

Susannah floated away to Forbes her smile immediately transforming to a look of worry. She placed a dainty hand on his upper arm. "Major, it's so good to see you again." She flashed her dimples at him.

I've never seen Forbes this way before. He looked at her as if nothing else in the world existed. "Susannah Shaw." He smiled gently at her, saying her name like it was candy melting in his mouth. "It's good to see you too. It's been a long time."

Susannah continued to eye him with worry. "Cabot, dear, what happened to your eye?"

If looks could kill, I would disintegrate right on the floor. Forbes turned back to look at Susannah. "Four – no – eight very big men…"

I snorted. Yeah, Forbes couldn't keep a story straight if he was standing before God.

* * *

He was just as she remembered; better, even. The same drowsy smile paired with vigilant brown eyes, thick, soft hair tousled in short waves. Pale skin, hardly browned by the hot sun, shown in great contrast with the handsome blue officers suit with shiny brass buttons and a deep scarlet sash. Annie stood pressed against the wall, apart from his family, waiting for him to notice.

Susannah, at times frivolous yet forever delightful, had put both hands on his shoulders and kissed him with sisterly affection on the cheek, smiling and floating away to the next victim of her charms. She had rushed towards the parlor where a small, thin figure stood lonely in the door way, and threw her arms around it.

Annie Kneeland Haggerty had to look closer to realize it was a girl. How utterly shocking! What kind of parents did she have who would allow their own daughter to dally around a rough group of soldiers in men's attire! Annie's own mother would die just by thinking such a thing. However, despite the scandal, Annie had to admit how brave she was to spit in the biased opinions of society. But nevertheless, the girl obviously had no sense of honor.

And no sense of hygiene, either, for that matter. Her dark, stringy hair was crudely brushed and on the verge of greasy, her face looked like it needed a good scrubbing, and her clothes needed to be burned immediately. And her skin! She would have to live in a tub of buttermilk if she ever wanted to bleach those spotty freckles.

The girl was staring at her hands. They were not the hands of a lady. Annie's mother had told her countless of times that a gentlemen can always tell a lady by her hands. The way they are soft and pale, dimpled and well manicured. Not a scrubbed, angry shade of red, healing cuts, and blisters oozing with some disgusting soft-yellow bodily residue. The girl, as if aware of Annie's thoughts, hid her hands behind her back, her cheeks coloring with the rush of blood.

She was taken aback, and she wobbled slightly with exhaustion as Susannah wrapped her arms around her back in a warm, welcoming embrace. The girl, Annie had noticed, melted by the second, like a small child, starved of its mother's love, she clung to the yellow sleeves of Susannah's dress, completing the embrace.

Annie soon lost interest in her, and returned her attention to Robert. To her dismay, he was still wrapped unescapably in his mother's arms. However, he was watching someone over the shoulder of Sarah Shaw, but it wasn't Annie. Instead, he was watching the sickly urchin whom Annie felt sorry for, but the girl returned his stare for a second, and it told Annie more than she ever cared to know.

Then, to Annie's relief, he looked away, and finally, finally, his attention belonged to her. He gently undid his mother's grasp about his neck and approached her, each step he took made her heart race. He flashed her that shy, drowsy smile as he came to stand in front of her, bowing his head slightly in a nod of greeting.

"Miss Haggerty." He addressed her with a smile. "How have you been?"

Sometimes Annie hated the formalities, but if they must they must. "Colonel Shaw, it's a pleasure to see you again! I daresay you are most fitting for that title."

Robert blushed a soft shade of rogue. "Thank you, Miss Haggerty."

"Has the regiment been good to you?" She inquired with a beckoning smile.

He loosened up a little, his hands clasped behind his back. "Oh, very good, thank you."

Within less than a three minute period they had run out of things to talk about. She could try again by speaking of the weather, but then he too would realize that their bond of friendship was severed. That was when Annie started to panic. Months before, they could speak for hours about nothing in particular, ever since that fateful night at the opera, whence they met. But now…

Robert spoke up first, breaking her thoughtful silence. Annie didn't mind, she was always glad to hear his voice. "Miss Haggerty, I believe you have not yet met my assistant, Miss Janeiro."

Annie shook her head, in truth, she did not want to. "No, I haven't."

Robert nodded, angling away from her towards the urchin that was now chattering between Cabot and Susannah. "Miss Janeiro, if you please."

Without excusing herself, she marched to Robert's side, appearing like she was waiting for orders, rather than an introduction. "Miss Janeiro, I would like to introduce a good friend of mine, Miss Annie Kneeland Haggerty." He smiled at both young women. "Miss Haggerty, please meet Miss Alexandra Janeiro."

Annie pasted a look of friendly civility over her true emotions, are tart smile gracing her lips. She made a note not to offer her hand to the woman. Miss Janeiro had the same intention. She didn't reach out either, but to Annie's guilt, her smile was genuine even if her eyes were emotionless.

"Hi." She greeted simply, causing Annie to raise an eyebrow. However, the girl quickly corrected herself. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Charmed, I'm sure." Annie mumbled, observing her casual stance which was so different from Annie's proper, erect posture.

Robert sounded almost proud as he spoke of the filthy girl's situation in life. "Miss Janeiro is a very hard worker." He spoke politely, searching for some more to add. "She is invaluable to us in camp."

The girl blushed and stared down at her strange shoes in a way that made Annie arch a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Indeed." Annie's voice came out strained, but it softened when her gaze fell upon Robert. She placed a dainty hand on his strong arm. "Oh, Colonel, we have much to talk of!"

Unfortunately, that could not be. His mother Sarah snatched him away from her. Like a spider, she captured Robert's arm, excused him from the group and with a nod of greeting to Janeiro led him away, followed by his father and other three sisters. Both women were left alone in the company of Forbes and Susannah, before he too was called away by Sarah.

Susannah approached them, her skirts swishing from side to side as she walked. She looked blissfully happy. She smiled warmly at both girls. "Shall we have some tea in the library? Alex we have much to talk about."

Annie forced a smile.

* * *

Susannah called over one of their maids and asked her to bring up a tea tray to the library, before, with a sweeping gesture of her arm, she led us down the hall, astounding me with the enormous size of their house, and stopped before what I guessed was the library. She threw the doors opened and waved Annie and I in, sitting down delicately on one of the three, white, flower-printed high-back chairs and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her hoop skirt.

_Dayum_! Their 'brary was _huge!_ It was large and open with enough breathing space to a comfortable degree. Both ladies sat down delicately, while I reflexively dropped my body disgracefully on to the chair. After the look I got from Annie, I remembered myself, and felt compelled to stand up and sit down again – more gracefully.

The maid that Susannah spoke to earlier shuffled into the library, set down a tea tray, and scurried out. Susannah was smiling as she turned over three tea cups one by one, and poured steaming hot tea into each. She offered us sugar – I declined – and next the three of us picked up our tea cups.

I held mine delicately, looking over my shoulder in search for the Mad Hatter.

Susannah watched me in what I could have sworn was admiration. "Alex, you are the bravest woman I know."

Annie looked very interested in her tea.

"Thank you." I replied awkwardly, surprised, I took a sip of tea. It burned my throat, causing me to stifle the urge to cough.

"No, I truly mean it." Susannah replied earnestly. "This may come off as shocking to you, but if I could, I would have joined the army in a snap."

Annie spoke up suddenly. "Yes it is brave." She agreed grudgingly. "But it is hardly the work of a true, well-bred lady."

I don't think she likes me very much.

I gawked at her, while Susannah shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "I'm sure Alex is no less a lady than our fellow Bostonians. She just has more stamina than some…"

Annie looked at me coyly. "Are you not worried of your virtue or reputation being at stake?"

I should probably leave out the fact that I sleep in the same room as several other different men. "I…I…"

This seemed to fuel the woman more. "I'm surprised that your parents allowed you to take on such a task."

I set my tea cup down and looked at her square in the eye. She didn't even flinch. "Where I come from…" I began slowly, struggling to control my temper. "There are female _generals_."

Susannah was fascinated, while Annie looked like she thought I was bluffing. "Really?" Susannah's brown eyes were glowing.

I nodded. "Women vote…they run for office…they own businesses…they…" I stopped shortly. Oh, God, Marty's gonna kill me.

Susannah noticed my silence, and opened a tin filled with cookies. My mouth watered reflexively. "Have a cookie." She smiled. That's it then, she's gonna bribe me.

My greatest weakness is cookies, how did they know?

I took one, resisting the urge to grab a handful and be a complete fatty. "Where I come from, women are treated as equals."

"I never heard of more extravagant a tale." Annie retorted, eyeing me over her teacup.

Lady, what did I ever do to you?

Susannah shushed her with the tiniest of frowns. She glanced back at me, chattering with excitement. "Though my father would probably have my head if he heard…" She began, licking her lips. "…ever since I was a young girl, I've wanted to be a criminal attorney." Her voice dwindled until it was barely above a harsh whisper.

Annie eyed her in mock shock.

The words were out of my mouth before I could process them. "My mother's a lawyer."

That's it time froze. I wish it was possible to unsay things, but unfortunately, Marty has the reset button. Susannah leaned forward. "Where are you from?" She whispered, like a secret agent.

You mean _when_.

"F-France." I lied through my teeth, but hoped my eyes weren't confessing the unbelievable truth. Please fall for it.

Glory Hallelujah she did.

She put her tea cup down. "My brother had been to France, but he had failed to mention the progress of feminist citizens."

That's because I'm a no-good rotten liar and Marty will strangle me the next time I am so unfortunate as to fall beneath his wrath.

"Oh." And the grand prize for eloquence goes to…well, not me. Wow, I am _such_ an astounding conversationalist I amaze myself!

Susannah, at that moment, decided to change the subject – kind of like me, she was distracted by something shiny. "Oh, Alex, that is such a lovely hair piece!" She exclaimed, her eyes glittering in wonder. My hand instinctively reached towards the midnight ribbon with the crystal pendant that Robert had given me for Christmas.

I smiled at her. "Thank you."

"These ribbons have been all the rave now." Susannah continued, chattering happily. "They are from Paris!" Her eyes glittered at the word. "Wherever did you get yours?"

Ah, a familiar Barbie line from the future: Wherddya get that, girl?

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, but I decided to tell her the truth. "Robert gave it to me."

* * *

Annie felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. What exactly was going on between her precious Robert and that girl? It had been so long since Annie had last seen Robert, was it already over before it began? Was he in love with this young woman? Annie eyed Janeiro with a horrified expression across her face.

She felt sick to the stomach.

"Excuse me." Annie stood up abruptly, earning looks of ultimate confusion from both Janeiro and Susannah.

She turned towards the door of the private library, tripping over her own skirts and stumbling into the hallway. She felt like she was trudging through water, her heart raced and her head swam. This was not possible. Any refused to believe that all was lost. She loved Robert. And when this war was over, he would see that he too loved her – not Alexandra Janeiro – and they would get married – and she would be the mistress of the Shaw mansion.

Annie wished with all her heart that things would go according to plan.

* * *

After I finished devouring Susannah's delicious molasses-sugar cookies, and the hot, steamy imported-from-India tea was gone, Susannah's maid rushed in and told Susannah that she was wanted by her mother, so she led me out of the library and dumped me in the sitting room, before excusing herself and telling me how much she enjoyed my company.

Then she was gone.

I was all by me onesie, slouching on the Shaw's velvet divan and humming some random MJ song. Billy jean…is not my lover. Ahem, so anyway, as I was slouching there and humming some random MJ song, I heard a soft, low voice come from the family room which was separated from the sitting room by a tall doorway.

I recognized it to be Robert's. But yet, it sounded so shockingly different in contrast with the harsh way of his order-bestowing ways. It was Sweet N' Low, and it was kind of beautiful. I listened to the lyrics, and is it my imagination, or is he singing a baby's lullaby. I felt drawn to him. Silently, I crept up to the doorway to have a peek.

Robert had his back to me, still in his navy uniform; but his kepi was off, and his thick, butter-soft hair was whipped upwards into a rather attractive peak instead of the bangs hanging into his face. He was looking at his lap, bouncing his leg lightly. But as I stood on my tippy toes, I realized that on his knee he held …a baby!

Robert would make such a good father…not that I'm suggesting anything.

* * *

Robert held Frank, his infant nephew in his lap. He had always adored the little tyke, and his oldest sister, Anna, was more than happy to give him up for half an hour. Robert understood now that motherhood was no picnic…perhaps the hard work might even rival the amount of dedication in military services.

Robert smiled at the young boy in his lap, who was thoroughly examining his kepi, drooling on the bill which he continuously placed in his small mouth, forcing Robert to gently pry it out of the baby's small fingers, explaining to a careless infant that no, 'the big blue hat' was not edible.

"Lullaby, Lullaby" Robert mumbled, feeling shy about his voice even when no one but the baby was here to witness it. "Go to sleep little baby." If only.

This continued on for a few minutes, until Robert had the nagging, persistent sense that someone was watching him. He stopped sing-hum-ing abruptly. Slowly, and nervously, he turned around in his seat. He had prepared himself for it to be Forbes, and was ready to chuck his kepi at him. However, when his mind registered Alexandra Janeiro, he was caught off guard.

"I…I…" Robert frowned. He wasn't normally this 'articulate.'

Miss Janeiro looked a bit embarrassed as well. "I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to…I…"

Robert cleared his throat. "No, no it's all right." Forever the gentleman. "Please come in, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Robert sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable. He had been thinking about this since this morning. He was going to ask Miss Janeiro to stay behind in Boston. They were travelling closer to the southern battle lines tomorrow; it was going to be too dangerous for a woman. Besides, Robert thought, he needed her to remain here because they were getting much to close for comfort.

And he had that Golden Rule to go by: No Fraternization.

* * *

Well, that was 'conveniently' awkward. I felt dejected again, my shoulders slumped as I watched Robert scrutinize me in a way that made me feel like he was deciding my future. I didn't like the look in his eyes. I took a seat across from him, watching the little now-sleeping child in his arms. He shifted his weight.

"Who's that?" I asked, pointing at the child with my chin.

Robert smiled down at the baby, his voice taking on a proud-like consistency. "He is my nephew, by my sister Anna."

She must have been one of the other women that I saw when I first walked into the house. "He's beautiful." I was delaying the inevitable. I had a feeling that I wouldn't like what he was going to say.

"Miss Janeiro." Robert murmured, standing up and placing the sleeping child in a small 'baby basket' across the room. He turned back to me with his full attention. "As you know, the regiment is being transferred to South Carolina the morning after tomorrow."

I wrung my hands. "Yesss." I replied slowly, in distrust.

He looked like he was having trouble wording it. "It is my opinion that it would be best for you to remain here in Boston." He swallowed nervously. "It's for your own safety."

I sprang up out of the chair as if stung. "What?" I exclaimed so loudly that he held a finger up to his lips, anxiously sending a glance towards the still sleeping baby.

"Miss Janeiro." He reasoned. "Please try to understand."

"I will not!" I protested. "Who are you to tell me what I will and will not do?" Okay, dumb question.

It was his turn to grow impatient. "Only your superior officer." He retorted sharply.

"I refuse! I will go! You can't stop me." I was rapidly sinking into tantrum mode.

"Miss Janeiro, you will remain in Boston, that is an _order!"_ Robert snapped, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow.

I glared up at him, but inside I was vulnerable and worried. If he made me stay here, where would I go?" "Well what would I do here?" My mouth has declared independence against me today.

Robert looked thrown off guard. "Er…what do you mean?" His usual articulation was not at its best today.

I didn't answer him.

"What would your family say?" He asked in a more gentle tone.

That made me calm down a bit. "I…my family…doesn't live here."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "What do you mean?" He repeated. "Not in Boston?"

Yes in Boston, but not exactly now.

"They live in California." I half-lied, my mom lived there and I spend my summers there, but in the winter I'm here with Dad.

Robert's lips formed a perfect 'O' of astonished surprise. "Really?"

I crossed my fingers subconsciously behind my back. "Yep."

To be honest, on a scale of one to Chris Brown I was pretty damned pissed. I have been in this regiment long enough to be a part of it. I mean, I even have a nickname, and I have already suffered through all the crap I was going to take from this guy. There was the whole 'Miss Janeiro' thing, the PMS, the watermelons-on-the-stakes-that-took-me-three-years-but-he-chopped-down-in-less-than-three-bloody-seconds, the hole in the roof that I shot with Thomas' stupid gun, Charlie's fat horse breakin' my spine, falling off the podium on the first day, occasionally spitting in Andrews' coffee when he wasn't looking and really pissed me off, Mulcahy's creepy way of speaking in third person…come on! I deserved to stay here just as much as I would have had I owned a Y chromosome.

Robert you sexist, insensitive hottie! Don't make me go all feminist on you!

* * *

Robert eyed her in a mysterious fashion, debating one what to do. He certainly hadn't prepared for her to have such a comeback. He couldn't very well leave her here in Boston, no matter how much he wanted to, but to take her with him could prove to be much worse on a greater scale, and it had Robert's judgment confused.

The young woman was a distraction, that he was certain of, but as a gentleman, it was his duty to consider her best interest _before_ his own. If she followed him to South Carolina, she would be there to confuse and toy with his emotions, proper judgment, and opinions. But if he left her here in Boston, without protection, God knows what sort of trouble she would get into.

He knew, being it Miss Janeiro, that she and trouble were very good friends.

Robert sighed in surrender, nodding his head.

* * *

Well, _that_ went well.

* * *

Forbes was finally alone with Susannah, outside on the front lawn, kneeling against a cherry tree. His usually emotionless façade was being ripped to shreds as his heart bled emotionally, though he would rather die than admit it. Susannah was weeping. He had told her that he was in love with her, that he wanted to marry her, and now Susannah was crying because she did not want him to go back to the army.

"Cabot, please." She begged, her doe brown eyes glossy with unshed tears. She wiped her face against a handkerchief he had given her. "It is so dangerous. Hundreds of men die each day. Why add your death to the statistics?"

Forbes smiled softly at her, gazing into her heart-shaped face as if it was the closest to heaven that he would ever be. "I'll come back to you." He assured her quietly.

Her eyes searched his face earnestly. "Do you promise? How can you be so sure?"

"Because this is true love." He replied without hesitation, and damning all propriety, bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

That evening when Forbes was riding back to camp with Alex, whom he had later realized had seen his moment with Susannah – much to the couple's embarrassment, Alex started to tease him good naturedly. He ignored her amused cracks until she said something along the lines of 'you go, Wesley,' followed by a series of irregular laughter.

Forbes could not understand what was so funny. He did not get it at all.

* * *

**Ahem. *Taps on microphone.* Ladies and gents, as y'all know on July 18th is the anniversary...however you spell that...of Colonel Robert Gould Shaw and the 54th Massachusetts' fatal assult on Ft. Wagner. Many great people died that day, over 150 years ago, and my brilliant friend CarminaXBuranaX and I have decided to hold a vigil on the memorable day. (For those of you who are like me and had to look that word up...it means that you go about not speaking in honor of something.) Obsessed? Maybe. But I also suggested that we wear black, and hey, she didn't think I was crazy, she agreed.**

**Now of course, this is entirely up to you, I promise not to hunt you down individually and force you to raid your closet for something black because A.) You'd probably kick my ass...and B.) I'm not Chuck Norris...believe it or not. But if you could do that to support the 54th and as a reminder that their brave deaths were not in vain, I and the 'gang' would be eternally grateful. *Salutes.***

**If you do decide to do it, and I don't update again before the 18th, let me know how it goes. Best of luck to you and of course...**

**HAPPY late FOURTH OF JULY!**


	40. Seasick

**So ladies and gents, did anybody do the vigil on the eighteenth?**

**I did. Kinda hard to stay quiet, but I succeeded up till eight thirty, when I totally chewed my sister for putting ketchup in my hair. Seriously? She's fourteen, time to grow up.**

**Anywho…I'm sorry if Annie came off a bit…meh…in the latest chapter. I thought the biatchy Annie would be more interesting than the Miss Congeniality Annie. *Shrugs* Just my humble opinion. :)**

**This chapter is only so-so, in my opinion, but I still hope you'll be able to enjoy it. *Crosses fingers* The REAL fun starts on Chapter 41. So excited to type it! :D Thank you!**

* * *

**HeartlessVampireGirl**: I find jealousy entertaining in stories…lol…but that's just me. Thank you!

**Crystal Vice**: Thank you! Lol, let me know how it goes. :)

**Beagle Bug**: Lol, thank you so so much! I think you may like the following chapters which will include Charlotte Forten and more…er…static. :)

**AnimeGirl1220**: Thank you, I just thought it would work since women and battlefields together was a big no-no back then. :) Can't wait till chapter 13!

**BK Love-ah**: Thanks for the review! Let me know how the vigil goes. :)

**Clyde Moore**: Thank you! I totally think I screwed up the beginning of the story though, I was re-reading it and it was just….awkward to read…unbelievably awful. BTW, good luck with the woman in your piano class. :)

**Otose**: Thank you! I totally can't wait for Friends with the Boy in the Front. That story is the bomb, girl! :)

**Lift the Wings**: Thank you! History is awesome, eh? And I also wanted to thank you for the Glory quote you sent me, I couldn't get back to you because my lap top died, but I think that was a very motivating quote that demonstrates the legacy of the underrated fifty-fourth. Thank you, and good luck with that history major! Are you planning on being a historian/teacher?

**Jazmonsterr**: Lol, thanks, I was worried that Annie's behavior might be a little over the top, but what the hell! Lol, Ralex! FTW!

**Smartyjonescrzy**: Oops! How embarrassing. I guess the no-tying-up-horses-to-random-fences is a big no-no, I really should stop trusting Tom Cruise in Far and Away. I'll fix that and keep it in mind! Sorry. :) Yay! Calamity Jane. My WiFi has been screwing up all week and I would have read it sooner…gonna do that as soon as my laptop comes back to life. So sorry about that. :)

**Lovemusic2**: Lol, that's funny. Thank you for your wonderful review, and if you get the chance, you should definitely checkout the Princess Bride, I assure you you'll love it. :) And Cary Elwes is hoooot there. :) Lol. And yes, there will be a smidgen of jealous Annie, but if you like jealousy, Charlotte Forten is coming up. :)

**Kiralol101**: Lol, thank you! Yes, I will definitely include a Marty Meeting in the near future. :)

**Dress4m**: Yay! A fellow Princess Bride fan! That movie is awesome! It's totally for the win, and it's really cool how you can quote it. BTW, I loved your revised version of Spies, incredible!

**TheTordNation**: Lol, even though I was the one writing it, I still feel kind of bad for poor Annie. A lil' depressing, eh?

**I STILL don't have an account**: Lol, thanks for the rainbow cookies, I could really use a wish right now. :D Yay for noticing the GWTW reference!

**Samantha Story**: Lol, your reaction was hilarious! I laughed for like half an hour. Thank you so much!

**IceDragonHikari**: Lol! Lemme know how the vigil went! Btw, have you ever gotten into a Edward VS Jacob war with anybody, it's petty but it's fun. Lol.

**Clark3**: Yay for the fifty-fourth! I wore black and *tried* not to speak all day. Pretty fun, everyone left my alone and just let me 'mourn.' :) *Salutes*

* * *

Forbes wasn't accustomed to sleeping on the hard ground of the makeshift tent for the overnighter until they trekked down to South Carolina, and he was looking forward to once more sleeping on mattressless cots that were considerably more comfortable than the hard ground that utterly destroyed his back. His morning would have been a lot better if the sun dimmed and that annoying Rio would find someone else to bother, Charlie was available for torture.

He had to admit to himself, with a wry smirk that it was ironic to have Alex waking him up this morning instead of the other way around. She had told him last night about Robert telling her to 'hit the road' as she put it, and she was so excited about him letting her stay that she could not sleep half the night, and was bouncing around bright and early at the bloody crack of dawn.

In truth, Forbes had been glad that Robert allowed her to stay, she made his day…er…_interesting._ But now that she kept whacking him on the head with his kepi, Forbes felt like changing his mind. Each time the leather bill met his cheek he reached up and shoved her arm out of the way, before rolling over to the other side. She then, would proceed to walk around him and hit his face from the other side. This cycle had been continuing for fifteen minutes now.

"Your royal highness the handsome prince…" She was saying sardonically. "…It is currently six forty five in the city of Boston according to your pocket watch…" Forbes frowned as his hand reached inside his coat pocket, impressed to find that it was truly missing. "…the temperature is balmy something degrees and a perfect morning for…oh, I don't know, kicking back and sleeping in or maybe rolling-your-butt-out-of-bed-to-work-off-that-flab-Forbes,-before-Roberto-finds-you-and-kicks-your-lazy-butt!"

The major groaned. "Tempting, but I won't get out of bed for less than half a million dollars." Forbes then turned to glare at her, snatching the pocket watch out of her grasp. "There is no 'flab.'" He replied in false indignation. "Besides, Alex, has anyone told you that self-wakeups are not in your repertoire?"

She ignored the last comment, grinning at him. "Oh homeboy you up? Howz it chillin' in the hood?"

Forbes stared at her, sincerely wondering if she had spoken English, for he did not catch a single word she said. "Pardon?"

She shrugged it off, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt. "Get up!"

"Alright. If I get up, when will you leave me in peace?" He said, just for the fun of it.

She muttered something along the lines of: when Han Solo dumps Princess Leah on a foreign galaxy and tells Chewbacca to blow up the Millennium Falcon with Luke Skywalker in it, then she'd go.

Forbes didn't bother asking what that meant, classifying it as 'interesting' and moving on.

He saluted her with more force than necessary, hoping that she would catch the sarcasm. But Alex just turned away after giving him a satisfied grin and went off to torture…er…_converse_ with good ol' Cap'n Charlie. Forbes shook his head, stretching and yawning. It will be interesting to see how this day goes.

* * *

I was in a pretty good mood this morning. Heck, I woke up by myself and Andrews' coffee did not have any of my DNA in it this time! The good mood came from me being glad that Robert so graciously let me stay, after all, who else would burn holes in his suits while ironing them? Even though I was just the tiniest of bits of sore at him for even thinking about ditching me…it was all good.

When I passed him between the tents this morning, I went, "Yo, Roberto! My-man-howz-the-weatha-tuh-day?" Of course he frowned and looked around for the culprit who addressed him so inappropriately, but I was gone out of there lickety-split, realizing my mistake.

I act on impulse, sue me.

Yesterday was still a pretty good day, ya know? Even though Roberto had told me to Hit the Road, Jack; and Annie looked like she wanted to destroy me…life's good. Or at least it was until we boarded this steam boat with a giant propeller in the bank that made me feel like Tom Sawyer. I was even feeling in the mood to ask Robert for a fence to whitewash.

Then it all went downhill from there.

You know how long we spent on that floating block of wood? Three bloody days. It was the most boring thing in the world, we stayed super close to the coast, and trekked downwards to South Carolina. But it wasn't a cool three days, because A.) I'm allergic to planes, trains, and automobiles alike and B.) This wasn't like the Princess Cruise Lines 'neither, that means no Shirley Temples with little umbrellas and shrimps on toothpicks shaped like swords.

What did we do those three days?

Nothing.

I think it disappointed Mulcahy, since he had to stop drilling for the next three days and his talented, colorful speech was put to a stop by Roberto, who told him to chill out and wait till we got to S.C.

'Course he didn't say it like that.

I only had my Rio homies, Charlie, and occasionally Forbes whenever he decided to take the time out of his 'busy' schedule and grace us with his honorable presence. But the poor guy, whenever he came near, Char and I started to crack jokes about him involving the words 'major' and 'insert insult here.'

Needless to say, we scared him away, back to Robert's side, muttering something about how he would rather listen 'to Robert's boring war chatter than spend valuable time in the company of lunatics.' So Charlie, who was totally loosening at the moment, and I found a new way to entertain ourselves on the morning of the third day.

It was a game called I-say-a-confession-and-you-try-to-top-that-off-by-saying-another-more-scandalous-confession-and-the-one-with-the-craziet-wins.

*Shrugs.* I heard it was shorter in Spanish.

Charlie went first. "It was _my_ idea for Robert to dress up as a woman to Cabot's birthday party."

Well _that_ earned a few looks from Trip and them all, who were standing a few yards away from us.

"I thought the only reason George Washington was famous is because he chopped down a cherry tree…all up until I was twelve years old." Now _that's_ sad.

Char covered his mouth to hide a smirk. "I was nineteen when I first learned how to swim."

Ouch.

"Sometimes when I'm bored I sit in a corner and pretend I'm a panda."

By now Charlie's face looks like this: O.o

But then, an hour later, it started to get worse.

The boat had finally gave me sea sickness, I was dizzy as hell, I could barely stand, so I sat down on a sack of grain next to the railing of the big boat – ship? – and put my head between my knees, breathing through my mouth and trying to stifle the nausea that threatened to explode all over Charlie.

I don't know how long I sat there like that, but the feeling didn't go away, no matter how many times Charlie asked me if I was okay. "How are you feeling, Alex?"

"Jolly good, my friend, right as rain." I retorted. Charlie gave me a look that my mom gives me whenever I refuse to go outdoors during the summer.

Seriously, what's wrong with parents? Why is it that whenever it hits June, parents think that there's something wrong with you if you're not outside 'frolicking' or whatever. I ignored poor Charlie pretty much after that, telling him to beat it if he didn't want me to ruin his pretty suit by puking all over his shiny brass buttons.

Instead I eavesdropped on my Rio buddies, who looked none too happy with the ride either, frowning at the murky sea water. The salt of the ocean filled my nostrils and the breeze cleared my head a bit, but I didn't move from that spot until the scenery changed, from bustling northern fishing ports to quiet, southern antebellum houses.

"Man, I forgot how hot it was down here." Red, one of Trip's lackeys, spoke up randomly.

Amen to that statement.

Trip snorted, an expression of such boredom on his face it looked almost suicidal. "Welcome home, boy."

"Buck up boys." Ah, Morgan Freeman - silence to all, Mary Poppins speaks. "It's all a mem'ry now that the North Man come."

I was only half-listening, I swear Imma throw up in ten – nine - eight…

"Now that…w-we c-come." I love Jupiter to bits, and his name rocks.

After all, it ain't every day you meet a guy named after a planet.

I think I just saw Trip smile! OMG! Jupiter just makes everybody feel good, and he sings better than Justin-fudging-Beiber.

The boat lurched forward on a particularly strong wave, and that was the straw that finally pissed my stomach off. I moaned so loudly and I leaned over the side of the railing, tasting carrots in my mouth. I feel like I swallowed a cruise missile! Oh god, it's coming up my throat – not that you need a play-by-play but my stomach feels like I'm about to give birth to a whale.

Ew, that just gave me an image I'm more than eager to forget. Finally, release! The secret weapon of throw up sailed into the ocean; I have never felt so disgust in my entire life. My hair fell out of the pony tail ribbon thing that Rob gave me, and my bangs got into my sweaty face. That's it, I'm going to fall over board and I'm going to die. My one regret is that I'm throwing up in the ocean, instead of Andrews' face.

Suddenly, the dark hair was being swept gently off of my face by some guy, no doubt Charlie, I was still way too sick to care. I fell down on my knees, my face between the bars of the railing and my hands wrapped around it. Charlie followed me down too, still holding my hair back. I was grateful, but my throat made no sound to thank him. We both waited until my #$%ing stomach calmed down, before I turned to face Charlie.

Only it wasn't Charlie.

It was Robert.

Oh shit.

Robert looked at me, before realizing he was still holding my hair back. Suddenly he dropped it like it was hot. He stammered when he spoke, awkward. "Are you all right, Miss Janeiro? May I offer you a glass of water?"

I stared at him. That's just fantabulous, throwing up in front of him after I chewed him out the other day for telling me to hit the road. He stood up abruptly when I didn't answer. "I'll send Forbes over with water."

* * *

He was gone so quickly I could have imagined it.

Robert hated awkward moments.

Especially those that had to do with women.

The young Colonel rubbed his temple and sighed. He told Forbes how Miss Janeiro wasn't feeling well, and his friend smirked at him with a knowing look in his eyes, taking in his nervous appearance. Robert was annoyed at his silent taunting so he frowned at him, ordering him to get going or else.

To Robert's chagrin, Forbes walked away without so much as a salute, chuckling and shaking his head.

* * *

"Alex, are you all right?"

"Go away!" I groaned, my face buried in Charlie's blue overcoat, which he so kindly shed for me…probably eager for an excuse to remove a layer of his uniform on a day so hot as this.

"I brought you water." Forbes ignored my original request.

I looked up, and sure enough, he wasn't lying. In his hand was a wooden drinking gourd filled to the brim with sparkling, fresh?, unsalty water. I jumped him for it, well maybe like yanked it out of his hand since I was too sick to move. I guzzled it down in a few short seconds, my head clearing immediately with the soothing liquid.

Forbes arched a questioning eyebrow at Charlie. The captain shrugged and Forbes turned away from him. "Not the strongest of stomachs, eh?"

I glanced up at Forbes after sneezing on Charlie's jacket. He took it away from me immediately, eyeing it twistedly. "What do you mean?" I asked Forbes, not the least bit insulted by Charlie's phobia for my spit.

"If I remember correctly, the day we met you told Rob's father that you were strong and could take anything…let's see…how did you put it? Oh yes, 'I may look weak but I am strong?'" He smirked at me. "Is that it, Rio?"

"What about it?" I asked testily, narrowing my eyes at him.

Knowing Forbes, no way was this gonna be a compliment.

"Think, goose!" He chortled, casting a grin in Charlie's direction. "How are you going to last on a battlefield if you can't take a boat?"

Oh no. Don't you go there. Homeboy, that was one step you didn't want to take. You are screwing with my strongest belief. "Listen, _Cabot_, are you saying that because I'm a woman I can't take a little blood?"

Forbes' smile disappeared. "I didn't say that…"

Forbes, you are a sweetie and I love you with my heart and soul, but sometimes you can get a little below-the-belt. But that's probably me just overreacting – as usual – creating drama out of dust.

"Well, you know what?" I rose from my spot on the floor, but then got dizzy and realized it was a bad idea, dropping down again. "Never mind." You got lucky Forbes, I'll be back to kick your ass later.

Fifteen minutes later, Andrews – ew – showed up and told him that Robert wanted to see him.

* * *

Robert gazed at the sea, as the steamer trailed from harbor to harbor. They were less than an hour's way from South Carolina, and he noticed the waves become larger, as if the bay was trying desperately to be the ocean.

The wind rushed through his hair, and Robert turned towards Forbes, and the two friends exchanged a loaded glance. He had called him over to help him do something big. To bestow a rank on a black man, who deserved it just as much as any white, was something unheard of. But, Robert thought with a smile, times do change.

"Colonel Shaw!" Robert turned at the sharp call of his name.

A short man with black curly hair protruding out of a tan cap elbowed his way through the crowd of lounging men to greet him. Robert recognized him as one of the few civilian passengers who boarded their one of the trio of steam boats. He offered his hand for a shake, and Robert graciously accepted, squinting in the sunlight.

"Edward Pearce." The shorter man stated after retracting his hand. "Special assignment from _Harper's Weekly_."

"_Harper's Weekly_!" Robert exclaimed in surprise. Good, the regiment deserved publicity.

The man gave a short, dismissive nod. "Serving an entire nation." His voice allowed no silliness, all work. "A million loyal readers want to know what happens when the Fifty-Fourth see action."

Ah, the white VS black.

Robert's lips displayed a small smile of amusement. "A million and one." He angled his body towards Forbes, who was waiting patiently for him to finish. "Well, you'd want to see this."

With a nod, he gave Forbes his cue, and history was made right on the steamer packet.

"Attention…company!"

* * *

Rawlins was simply minding his own business. It was an ordinary day, hot as hell, like he said – ordinary. The only thing unusual about it was Trip, he was awfully quiet today. Perhaps he was sick. Rawlins had been tense the entire boat ride, fearing that the boy would start trouble on deck and get them all into serious trouble – something like he would do.

That was why Rawlins was surprised, when after no fiasco, his name was called. "Rawlins! Front and center!"

Rawlins took a deep breath to steady himself, trying to appear not the least bit nervous. There was no reason, he had done nothing wrong, he told himself. The old man turned towards the direction of the voice, marching sharply to stand in front of the colonel, and the young blonde major who had spoken.

"Sir!" He barked, as ever, alert.

The blonde looked like he was trying to keep grin from sliding onto his face. It did not escape the old man's notice that in the major's hands was a small bundle of deep-blue cloth, and a thin, gleaming rapier with crimson tassels hung on the tang that danced in the wind whenever he moved. They exchanged salutes before the young man spoke again.

"Mr. Rawlins," he began, pulling his speech out to make it longer, "this regiment was formed with the promise that only _white_ officers would be commissioned to charge it." A leisurely grin spread across his clean-shaven face. "Nothing was mentioned, however, about non-commissioned officers."

Rawlins only blinked, stunned and refusing to believe.

"Therefore, in recognition for the initiative taken not only for yourself, but on behalf of the entire regiment," Rawlins did not care for words so large, but he could follow the major without falling behind, "you are hereby awarded the rank of sergeant-major."

His last words were stated with an extravagant flare of his New England accent, and he produced the sword in front of him, unfolding the blue cloth to reveal two light-blue stripes that signified the rank of sergeant. He held the offering up to Rawlins' speechless face, and the man accepted it mechanically, stunned into silence.

Well, that was…_unexpected_.

The blonde noticed his shakiness, and smiled knowingly. "Congratulations."

A pale hand was offered, and Rawlins accepted the sign of camaraderie, wrapping his callused, brown one and pumping the major's outstretched hand. "Thanks." Rawlins whispered softly, and even though the impact of the weight of his new responsibility was unnerving, he meant it.

Major Blonde saluted in denouement, and Rawlins returned it, his earthy face turning a strange shade of grey. Hip! Hip! Hooray! Was repeated thrice in his honor, and as Rawlins continued to gaze at the small, grinning group of white officers, for the first time in his life he felt that he found people who truly didn't care whether he was black or white…or red or yellow.

These people understood that people were people, regardless of who they were. And Rawlins respected those beliefs, keeping his salute up longer than necessary in their honor.

Rawlins was so shocked he almost didn't notice the colonel standing there, beaming silently, a few inches shorter than Major Blonde. He side stepped soldiers, taking slow, deliberate strides towards the new sergeant on steady sea legs, pausing to look at the old man's earthy face. How long ago it seemed when he first kicked him on the shattered battlefield of Antietam. How odd it was that things should turn out this way.

"Congratulations." Colonel Shaw said simply, shaking his hand firmly.

Rawlins did not mean to sound ungrateful, but the sudden change of status had made him feel vulnerable. What if he wasn't capable of being in charge of men. Fellow blacks? What if he brought more damage than good? He parted his lips, his mouth full of sawdust. The colonel noticed and lowered his ear towards his mouth, waiting for the fellow officer to speak.

"I'm not sure I'm wantin' this, C-colonel." He stuttered, not wanting him to misinterpret and become angry.

A soft chuckle rumbled in the young man's throat. He smiled, without a trace of annoyance, just a look of sheer understanding. "I know _exactly_ how you feel."

* * *

Short Round. *Spanish Sunrise is stealing from Indiana Jones again.*

That was his name. It wasn't the fanciest thing in the world, but that was the only one he got, and the eight year old boy was more than proud of it. Of course, it was pretty obvious how he got it. Throughout his so-far so-short life, he lived up to the name. Just barely above the four-foot picket fence that served as decoration in front of the gleaming white plantation manor that was surrounded by a rather sinister, tall, wall.

Shorty was also kinda chubby, but he would never admit that out loud.

Today was different. There he was, kicking around fat white geese which were just as round as he was, trying to avoid Lacey's kisses that she blew to him, a skinny African girl who was exactly his age. To be honest, he was scared of her. He had seen her take down Dirk, a BIG kid, because he stole her molasses sugar cookie once.

To be honest, Shorty would be fine with living the rest of his life without having experienced such a fate.

So anywho, he was babysitting a clan of possessed gooses – as he preferred to call 'em, the word 'geese' really didn't make any sense – humming 'My Country Tis of Thee' a song that his teacher Miss Forten had taught him at school, when all of a sudden, he hears drummin'. He thought it was just the Rebels, movin' up North, but to his surprise, the drumming grew louder.

And louder.

And louder.

Until just down the road he could she a large splotch of navy blue forming. Growing bigger by the second. When he squinted, he found out something so astonishing he almost fell backwards off of the whitewashed fence he had been sitting on this lazy afternoon.

The men, well he'd be darned, they sure weren't white boys. They were…perhaps he was imag'ing again…brown people. Brown as…as…well, himself. But they weren't slaves, they weren't contrabands that were being pulled of the fields by the hundreds thanks to the Yankee army. They were gonna whup the Secess' for sure. Ain't no way these were local boys.

Shorty sprang up as if stung. Quickly he cupped his work-ridden hands over his lips and bellowed the names of the children who were working the courtyard. He had to show them the sight, they'd think he was bulling if he told 'em that he seen brown-faces in blue suits. Hell, he didn't believe it himself! And if his momma were to read his thoughts and hear him say 'hell', she'd wear him out with a cornstalk for sure.

They were getting closer, and by the proud setting of their jaws, Short Round could tell that they meant business. His friends materialized around him, and all stared slack-jawed at the awe-inspiring procession before them.

In the lead were a few young white men, all dressed up in deep blue suits and shiny brass buttons that looked like they were made of gold, gleaming elegantly in the sunlight. However, Shiloh was more surprised to see a girl in a blue coat, too. What? Girls can't fight! How did _she_ get into the army? She was laughing with a blonde officer, at least a head taller than her, but when she felt Shorty's eyes on her, she smiled at him and even waved a little.

He waved back mechanically, emotionally dumbfounded by this odd group of…er…people.

One of the black officers on the outskirts of the marching rows stopped before Shiloh, a kind smile on his weathered face as he bent over to his height. Shiloh blinked and the old man laughed, patting his head. "That's right, honeys." He grinned, his eyes scanning the small crowd of children. "Ain't no dream. We runaway slaves but we come back fightin' men." Shorty gaped, he wanted to go with them too. "Run on an' tell your folks how kingdom come in the year of jubilee!"

He turned and spun away, the magic moment broken by the marching drums. Shorty just stared, before erupting in a cheer and waving his arms goodbye wildly, the other kids following his lead.

Well, that sure ain't somethin' you see ev'ry day.

* * *

Thomas was in a good mood. He had a spring in his step and a grin on his face as he marched beside the regiment's newest sergeant, Sergeant – Major John Rawlins. He saluted him repeatedly to show respect, and occasionally dropped a hint or two how he hoped that he would not take the dreaded Mulcahy as an example.

Thomas shuddered slightly, but that did not dampen his mood.

He loved the attention. It felt like wherever they went everyone's eyes were drawn to them. It didn't matter what their opinions were – as long as they noticed. And a lot of people _did_ notice. Notice enough to jog beside the team of African American soldiers and question them curiously. Thomas smiled at the word he just mentally used – team – after all, that's what they were, a _team_.

"Who are these ragamuffins?" Thomas spoke to Rawlins out of the corner of his mouth, once out of earshot of round brown faces with eager smiles that watched them in astonishment.

"Contrabands." The new sergeant replied, who had spoken with a few of the said ragamuffins already. "Right outta the fields."

"Hey!" Thomas turned to find a skinny brown boy with childish features. "Hey old man, where from?" Thomas noticed the boy's eyes linger on the powder blue rank stripes on Rawlins' arm.

Thomas grinned at him, his voice displaying northern pride when he named his home state. "Massachusetts." The boy's eyes held no trace of recognition, and Thomas, though understandably, found it odd that he had never heard of MA.

"Oona marches better than we. Oona march like the buckra souljas." Thomas almost didn't notice the older, uneducated man beside the boyish youth. He was not familiar with this…'terminology'…and he furrowed his dark brow in confusion.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Says we march like white soldiers." Rawlins explained, using a tone that implied it was the most obvious thing on earth.

The youth nodded wildly. "Even talk like the buckra soulja!"

Thomas was amused by his starry-eyed excitement. "Where're you from?"

"All round about hyah." He motioned with his hands to express his point. "We in the field when the yankee-man come. Say we soldiers!" If possible, his grin widened so much Thomas worried that he would permanently disfigure his face.

"How you like the army, contraband?" Rawlins inquired, amused at his childlike eagerness.

"_Love_ it!" The other contraband was eager to get his two cents in. "We thank the Lord every day for the good vittles and these beautiful clothes!" Thomas chuckled, because he was educated by the Shaw family and using common sense paired with context clues, was glad he understood the man. "Tell true old man, this year, ev'ry day like Kismas."

That one was a little bit harder. "Like what?"

Rawlins smiled, his eyes straight ahead. "Like Christmas."

Thomas chuckled at himself. "Oh."

* * *

_Beaufort, South Carolina_

_June 9th 1863_

Let's face it. Time travel. Is. Awesome. Thank you, Doc.

I felt a lot better after we got off of that godforsaken steam boat and then we hiked for a few miles into this really cool, plantation-looking neighborhood with a lot of white field – cotton? King Cotton truly was king of the south, or so I heard. There were some pretty modest wrought-iron fences, but those fenced gradually turned into harsh, sinister stone walls.

I got Forbes' attention by tugging on his coat, seeing that we were riding horse – ugh – again. Forbes had totally forgotten me even though I was clinging to him like a 'woman of low standards' because he was too busy eyeing everything that wore a skirt, despite his fading black eye, it was pretty obvious that Forbes was all that.

I tugged on his sleeve this time. "Yo, Fabio!"

"Me?" Honestly, how many people are riding this here horse buddy? Of course you. In his defense, he sounded like he had been partially asleep.

"Yeah." I retorted, while staring at the scenery bustling with people who looked like they were getting ready for a par-tay. "Listen. I've been thinking…"

"Never a good sign."

I gestured wildly at the wall, ignoring his sarcasm which, I grudgingly admitted to myself a few months before, was way wittier than mine. "The stone wall. I mean, I know good fences make good neighbors, but ain't that a little too high-tech?"

He actually turned in the saddle to look at me, his facial expression incredulous as he wondered whether or not I was serious. When he realized I was, he muttered something along the lines of: Lord, help this girl with her ignorance. But I don't think I was supposed to hear that, after all, that's even pushing it for _him_.

"Alex, these are slave plantations." He explained like it was obvious. Even though it kind of was, I'm just demented. "It wasn't built to keep anything _out_, it was built to keep slaves _in_."

"Oh."

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Thanks for clearing that up."

"Right."

I really should brush up on history if I ever return to…*swallow*…the future.

Really, where is Marty? He's a little overdue for his bi-monthly visit. Hell, he never shows up. But I still have to ask him something very, very important.

* * *

**So sorry this chapter was boring…I promise it will get waay better in the next chapter…which…I might add…includes Charlotte Forten! *Does excited-happy dance.***


	41. The Antebellum South

**Happy New Year! If you want to survive 2012, better go find John Cusack. Lol. **

**Now, I know that I deserve to be burned at the stake for this, or some other form of Dark Ages torture that you find more suitable, but I beg thee to reconsider.**

**I know I haven't updated in a few millennia, but times are hard. Especially when you are recovering from a horribly yucky experience involving a virus and hospital Jell-o, especially when you go back to school and all your AP classes decide it would be fun to bombard you with unnecessary essays and note-taking and whatnot. I feel so dead. But unfortunately, I hear that college – which is not very far away at all – is so much more worse.**

**Anywho. I'm sorry if this chapter is horrible, it's quiet long on Microsoft, and I really hope I can update within the next two weeks. But all in all, forgive me for my shortcomings. :)**

**Off to watch illegal suburban fireworks. Enjoy! :)**

**BTW, sorry if I missed anyone on the replies, and thank you all so much for your wonderful support and get-wells! Bless you all!**

* * *

**CarminaxBuranax**: Thank you so much for all your worrying, cheking-up-on, and support! You're awesome Emma!

**LifttheWings**: Haha, if he holds your hair back, definitely a keeper, eh? :)

**Smartyjonescrzy**: Ugh, what can I say, long time no type, eh? I will definitely have to check back up on the whole Calamity Jane masterpiece you're currently working on. Which, by the way, is awesome. And thanks so much for all your support. :) BTW, how's your college going? :)

**Lovemusic2**: Thanks for all your support, I'm just itching to write the Charlotte Forten scenes. :)

**IceDragonofDarkness**: Is it just me or did your name change again? :D lol, THANKS!

**Crystal Vice**: I have not heard of Allons-y Allonso, but I shall have to look him up! :)

**AnimeGirl1220**: Thank you! I so can't wait for your update!

**Still No Account**: Lol, Forrest Gump is pure awesomeness, eh? :D

**Hrh101**: Thank you! :)

**Wolfpirate13**: Thank you! But I'm still sorry it took so long. :)

**Samantha Story**: 104? Wow, you *are* a survivor, Girl! :)

**TheTordNation**: Lol, thank you for such kindred support, my dear TordNation, you're awesome as ever. :)

**Jazmonsterr**: Thank you so much for all your support and prayers Jazmonsterr! :)

**BreeilnaBane**: Lol, yes there were plenty of cookies involved, but unfortunately, they were the ones that come from the hospital cafeteria. :/D

**Kiralol101**: Thank you for the get well wishes! :)

**BeagleBug**: Thank you so much for all your warm support, BeagleBug, and God bless you toO! :)

**Clark3**: Thank you so much for your well-wishing and patience, I know it's been forever! :)

**SimplyMonkey**: Thank you!

**HoneyBee4eva**: Thank you so much for the well-wishing, definitely never fun being sick. :p

**BK Love-ah**: Thanks a bunch!

**Wegotthelove**: Thank you so much! I'm so glad that I was able to inspire you to write, it's always a pleasure to see more glory stories, and I'll be sure to read yours. :)

**Clevernugget**: Thank you for such an informative opinion. :) Your get well soon was a really great motivator, and I hope I'll be able to make you 'stand up and cheer' some more. :)

**Eyak**: I'm so glad you liked it, and yes I will definitely finish this story, it's so far in it would be a waste not to. :)

**MaryFairy**: Thank you! I'm glad you think so. :)

* * *

If I accidently dropped a rock on Andrews' head, would that be considered attempting murder?

As tempting as it sounds, why take the risk?

So we were stationed outside this really huge white plantation house (the phrase Forbes used was 'Antebellum Manors') making it sound all high-toned and fancy. Everybody was minding their own businesses, unpacking their own tents – even the officers, no more barracks, means no more sleeping with Forbes and Charlie. Um….ignore that.

So anyway, like I said while everybody was minding their own business unpacking things, _Lieutenant_ Andrews pulled me aside and forced me to help him. And when I started to whine about it – honestly, who'd want to hang out with a doctor who possessed no people skills whatsoever – he tattled on me to Robert. Robert 'frowned upon' me and told me that I'd better do it or else he would…I high-tailed outta there before he could finish his sentence. No doubt it would have involved horrible four-letter words like 'wash' and 'iron.'

Why did he take Andrews' side? Now that stupid goat is smirking at me in triumph. What if he made me do some unspeakable thing – like organize the medical cabinet? It would be utterly destroyed by the time I finished and Rob would yell at me for it. Speaking of goats, sometimes when Andrews pisses me off (which is 99.9% of the time I spend in his 'agreeable' company) I imagine him as a crossover between Commodore Norrington and that creepy, pedophilic mountain goat in _Hoodwinked_.

I snuck a look at Andrews' Norringtonish face. By personality, you've got the Norrington nailed down to a T, butt-face, but we're gonna have to work on your 'commodore part' a little more. I accidently dropped a wooden bowl and it clambered on the dusty ground. You'd think I shot the sheriff by the way Andrews reacted.

But I didn't shoot no deputy.

"Miss Janeiro!" He barked at me, snatching his precious bowl off the ground. "You're no more careful than a child!"

Finally, we agree on something.

"Geez, I'm sorry." I muttered, reaching for the bowl. Seriously, it wasn't as if I dropped a priceless Ming vase.

When I tried to take it from him, his eyes widened as he continued to examine the bloody medicine bowl. "Look!" He shrieked. "What is this, Miss Janeiro?"

I stared at the sullied bowl. "A crack."

"Yes!" He needed a chill pill. "Look at it! A crack! On a wooden bowl! How does one manage to do that?" Well I've managed to burn water before – how the fudge do you burn water? – so this is no surprise. "A bloody crack right there on the top!"

My eyesight's as good as ever just so you know. "Well, look on the bright side, Lieutenant! Your medicine bowl now looks artistically unique."

Andrews stared at me; that probably wasn't what he wanted to hear. "'Unique' here meaning 'broken.'"

"Lieutenant, it's only a _bowl_." He got pissed when I called him 'Andrews' to his face. Ha! If only he knew what I called him behind his back. Oops.

He rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. I looked up there too, but I didn't see anything. "That's not the point." He replied flatly. Then he shook his head. "Never you mind. Fetch me some towels."`

Do this, do that. Mind if I shine your shoes _too_, sir?

I told him 'one moment please' only it came out sounding like 'go get it yourself.'

Honestly, this place was a tomb. I'm going to hang out with Trip in the make-shift cafeteria, where it's fun. Just as I was about to ditch Andrews, this round woman in an apron and her late sixties ran inside the large medical tent. Andrews said hello in a civil manner, but then barked at the maid for not knocking.

We definitely need to work on those people skills.

Besides, how the hell do you knock on a _tent_?

"Sir, I am looking for one Miss Janeiro." She explained in a thick Irish accent. I perked up. "She's to 'ttend at the evenin' ball tonight. In 'onor of the comin' of the northern armies."

Whose idea was that?

Andrews nodded, as if he owned me and had the choice of letting me go or not. "Take her away, if you must."

The lady turned to me, impatiently reaching for my arm. "Come, come, lassie." Geez, I _was_ a dog around here.

She was dragging a very clueless _mwah_ out of the tent when Andrews' annoyingly English-ish accent with a nasal twinge stopped us. "I do hope you will learn feminine manners, Miss Janeiro, and learn to control you temper instead of bantering with superior officers." He was talking about himself and his phenomenal lack of comebacks.

"Or you could surrender." I shot back, rushing away before he could think of another comeback.

* * *

It was Robert who suggested that Miss Janeiro attend the ball tonight, though just why he did it he hadn't the slightest idea.

He had been invited by a message being delivered directly to his tent by a private of the neighboring regiments who did not look a day over sixteen. Lied his way into the army, no doubt. Robert had debated on whether or not he should accept, being the socially inept that he was, but after rereading the letter printed on Union stationary, he realized that it was obvious that the ball was nothing if not mandatory.

And he grudgingly dispatched a reply which he sent back with the boy.

He had been thinking of Miss Janeiro ever since the minor incident aboard the steamer. It had surprised him how much time he spent afterwards worrying about her health status, interrogating the smirking Forbes repeatedly on whether or not she was truly all right. After all, even though Robert had admitted to himself that he loved her once, which had just been spur-of-the-moment thinking. As a teen studying in New York, Paris, and Harvard, he had repeatedly claimed to have fallen in love with a young woman at a ball one night, and then completely forgetting about her before the week was out.

It aggravated him that no matter how much he told himself that he could not stand Miss Janeiro, images of the ribbon he gave her tied around her dark hair always wormed their way into his open mind. Robert stood up from a chair in his new tent quarters and paced the room, running his fingers through his hair. How could he get out of this situation? How could he –

Robert's eyes fell upon his wooden writing desk. A feathery quill pen sat in a dip of fresh ink beside several sheets of unused parchment paper. He had left them out since he penned the note of thanks for the invitation. An idea brightened up his clouded mind. Robert attacked the pen, watching the ink drip down on the parchment paper. Yes! Writing always helped!

He would simply write another letter to his worrying mother and Miss Janeiro would leave his mind alone.

Instead, without really realizing, he sat there staring at the wall, his hand moving about the paper, the pen making scratchy sounds on the sheet. Occasionally he dipped the tip into the black ink well, but that was pretty much it.

Robert supposed that the reason he felt obligated to bring Miss Janeiro to the ball was because she was a young woman who had spent so many months in the company of rowdy men, and she deserved to be on the dazzling night of the social scene once again – after all, isn't that what women liked? Silk gown and waltzes?

Besides, he pitied her, and it would be a breath of fresh air for her to get out once in a while. He was sure she missed being in the presence of normal society again.

Robert removed his pen from the parchment sheet, focusing on what he wrote. When he could make out the words, he gasped in panic, almost spilling ink on his desk as he dropped the pen into the ink well in alarm. There, scrawled in elegant script that took him years of penmanship practice with his governess, were several neat lines of two words repeating themselves.

Alexandra Janeiro.

Alexandra Janeiro.

Alexandra Janeiro.

Damn it! She infested his mind like sharks in Atlantic waters! Roberts initial idea was to crumple the sheet up, or tear it apart into hundreds of tiny pieces, or better still, burn it. But before he did that, he just needed to get one thing straight. That he was the ruler of his thoughts, not his young, amusing, camp aide.

Madly, he dipped the pen in the sticky ink again, turning the paper over and jabbing the tip harshly across the paper. He began to write – one of the things he was quite good at, actually – something that he needed his stubborn brain, head, mind, heart, soul – whatever – to understand.

I do not love her.

Over and over, he wrote that phrase.

I do not love her.

When he was satisfied with the seemingly thousands of repetitive phrases, he blew on the paper, damp and heavy from drying ink, before turning it back over to the Miss Janeiro side. He was just about to proceed in destroying it when he heard Forbes screaming his name panickingly outside of his tent.

Robert rushed out, alarmed at the panic in his friend's voice, but after finding out that it was just another one of the major's practical jokes – and then proceeding to spend the next five minutes calling Forbes several unspeakable names, Robert stormed back inside, in no mood for bloody games. He set about preparing himself for the ball, feeling more than a tad bit ridiculous. He told Forbes to do the same, and pass the word down to Charles.

As he pulled on a fresh shirt, he completely forgot about the scandalous paper on his desk – with Miss Janeiro's name written in his graceful script.

* * *

The Irish lady led me passed Union soldiers, black and white, up white marble steps of the plantation house, and through the 'lobby.' The house was fairly deserted, except for a few officers and women lingering inside, all who stared at me oddly. I didn't even have time to stare open-mouthed at the grandeur and splendor of the mansion, feeling as if I was in Ashley Wilkes' house, as the maid-lady towed me up a gorgeous marble staircase to the second floor, down a few halls and into a large, extravagant room with flowery wall paper.

There were two other maids there, both of whom looked just a few years older than me. Linda led me past them and through another door. Bright light hit me as I was pushed in to the steam-filled room, and using my handy-dandy Sherlockian deductive skills, I deduced that we must be in somebody's bathroom.

Wait a minute, the bath was for me.

There was a small mirror in the bathroom, and I turned to look at it.

I yelped.

Oh my God it's Sweeney Todd!

But a second later I realized it was only me. My hair was a dark, crazy mess all over my head – but no way did it look sexy like it did on Johnny Depp. I looked like a druggee homeless person. My eyes were a dark blue – which normally would be something to be proud of – but unfortunately at the moment it looked like twin bruises, sunken deep into my skull.

I looked emaciated, but the old woman assured me it was just the lighting.

I hope so.

The old woman, which I later found out was called Linda, shouted at one of the maids, a red-haired girl. "Niamh! Don't jes stand thar, 'elp 'er." Niamh, a Celtic name, must have been Irish as well.

I wanted to say that it wasn't necessary, but I was stunned into shocked silence as Niamh tugged my jacket off, the other girl bending to work on my Converse, and Linda disappearing for a moment in the steam. "Whoa, what are you guys doing?"

I am so Captain Obvious.

Niamh scrunched her nose at my Union jacket, then told the other girl, Josephine, that she should wash my clothes. Josephine had finally succeeded in removing my sneakers when Linda returned. She started to pull my T-shirt over my head. "Whoa! Ladies, I can do that myself, my hands work just fine, thank you."

Linda let out a huff. "Be quiet, dearie." I heard her mutter something about backwoods white trash.

Love you too.

The women giggled at me as I continuously slapped Linda away from the danger zone of my pants. Honestly, you have no idea how humiliating this was! She got me out of my clothes, me hiding in the steam with the last ounce of pride I had left, and threw the clothes at the amused Josephine and Niamh, wondering out loud at 'the strange contraption' that she held in her hand which was only…oh I don't know…just my BRA!

Geez lady, I'm going to die of humiliation – a terrible disease to be sure.

She then, to my utter relief, told Niamh and Josephine to scram. She turned back to me and pushed me into the steam. I coughed a little bit, but the back of my knees touched the edge of something and I fell over backwards into a large tub filled with very hot – hot –HOT water! I screamed for a second, and in the next room I heard the voices of the girls, talking as they did my laundry.

"Niamh, you made the water too hot!" Josephine giggled.

Niamh's voice was apologetic but equally amused. "It will cool down."

"Eventually." Another round of giggles.

I don't even know those two, and somehow, I'm almost positive that I'll never live this down.

Linda then proceeded to scrub my back fiercely, and I yelped, for a moment even wondering if she was a distant relative of Edward Scissorhands, perhaps she had scissors that I failed to notice. In all honesty, it felt like she was scraping my back raw, my whole body burned already because of Niamh's water-heating skills, and on top of that it felt like I was receiving a third-degree sun-burn by a freaking sponge.

Honestly, just because I wear jeans doesn't mean I don't know how to take a shower! My hygiene skills work just fine, thank you.

When Linda had finished stripping the flesh off of my back, she moved on to my arms, raking each one like leaves, then my legs and feet. I prayed to God she wouldn't make a move on my torso – and He delivered – she left it alone. I would have drawn the line there even if she threatened to drown me, kicking and screaming.

Finally, she poured some thick and gooey liquid that had the consistency of honey on to my wet hair, which I gathered was the Victorian version of shampoo. After she was done lathering *cough cough* yanking out *cough cough* my hair, she told me I could relax in the (boiling – if I may add) water for a few minutes while she went and searched for *insert word that does not reside in my futuristic vocabulary.*

You know, judging by the way they take baths here, no wonder the poor people have lice and dysentery, and not just because of the war. I looked around the bathroom, which was so elegant and fancy looking it was difficult to describe. Washing it required a lot of work. Apparently, the only way to get clean here is to be filthy rich.

The water, like Niamh laughingly promised, had cooled down to a comfortable degree, but I hardly got a chance to relax when Linda returned with Josephine and Niamh, who had apparently finished washing my clothes – thanks. Linda held a large, white-cloth towel, and she told me to get up. I demanded that she give me the towel and for the three of them to turn around while I climbed out of the wood-and-iron tub.

I wrapped the towel securely about my shoulders, my skin covering with thousands of goose bumps in the sudden coolness of the air. "Okay." I said.

Linda turned around, and immediately wrapped another, smaller towel around my damp hair, and – groan – began drying it so fiercely I thought I was going to lose my scalp. She led me out of the bathroom, and threw a lacy bundle of what looked like the 1800's version of underwear at me. I looked at it, no bra – no briefs, just long lacy pants and a peasant top. I asked for my own underclothes, and after whining for a few minutes, Josephine returned them to me.

Even though they were still damp from their wash, I pulled them on. After all, underwear is a basic human right.

Linda made me put on the knee – length capris-like linen pants and lacy peasant top on anyway. Well, if you wish. After that, she did something unspeakable – literally, I was so air-deprived for a few minutes that I could not say a word. She made me hold on to a bed post, then she put a cage around my torso.

Tighter and tighter she pulled. Several times I gasped and felt like I would pass out, she loosened up a bit, but not much. I should have asked this question earlier but – why were they doing this? She pulled on the silk stays and then tied them securely in what I guessed was a really fancy bow – I couldn't see my back, you know. Now there's a shocker!

Then, before I had time to react and try to adjust to the corset, she pulled this flexible, metal thing over my head. It was like wearing a metal cage for a skirt. I was too shocked to say anything, but apparently it was meant to poofen up the skirts. Really, whose stuff am I wearing right now?

Next she pulled a satin petticoat over my head – it was kind of like a really thin dress. But for the final touch, she brought out a buttery-yellow silk-looking dress, gesturing at it with a proud flourish. I gasped – which wasn't a really good idea since I was wearing the stupid corset – because it was the most beautiful dress – besides Kate Middleton's wedding gown – that I've ever seen.

It was shiny because of the silk, and it was off – the –shoulder. In truth, it looked like the dress Belle wore in the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast. Yellow silk festooned in elegant dips and bows all around the skirt that I just continued to stare at it before it was lifted over my head and pulled down over my body.

I didn't deserve anything so beautiful.

It was a little showy, cleavage–exposing. I felt uncomfortable about it, and I pulled it almost to my neck. Linda frowned and pulled it down, exposing cleavage I did not know I had. I can't even begin to describe how awkward this is. I pulled up and she pulled down, until we finally agreed on a height that was slightly exposing and yet still covering quite a bit.

"There is nothing wrong with a woman being proud of what she has." Linda explained. Really? Did you know that that's how they feel about boobs here? In the future you'd be labeled a skank for the rest of your days.

Then she led me to a vanity and pushed me down on the chair. She turned me away from the mirror and then barked at Josephine to find some slippers. She waddled around in search for a brush and comb, before she vigorously began untangling the watery waves out of my hair, straightening it to a sleek, black shine.

Niamh suddenly appeared holding a skinny, black metal stick about the length from my wrist to my elbow. She grabbed a piece of my drying hair and wrapped it around the stick. Ah! I know what that was! It's a curling iron! Duh, Rio, duh. Now obviously it did not have a cord, this being before Thomas Edison, so I guessed that they put it on a hot stove before curling.

It took half a damn hour and she was finally done. No hairspray, no big surprise, but she dusted my hair with something powdery that disintegrated when it touched the strands – I guessed that was their version of hairspray. Linda then put a thousand combs and pins into my hair, pulling it up into a fancy Cinderella bun.

On to the makeup.

All she did was rub something white into my face that smelled like jasmine, muttering all the while about what a terrible tan I had received. She didn't touch my lips or my eyes or my cheeks. Weird – I was expecting to have a five-inch layer of glob on my face – but no. Out of curiosity, I asked her.

"Pale complexions are what distinguishes ladies from white trash." Linda eyed me with a sneer. "I don't know what women in the north do, but the ladies of the south do not wear rouge – we do not like to be confused with women of ill repute."

It sounded weird for her to use so large words. "Oh." I said dumbly.

Josephine stooped down and lifted the hem of my skirt a little bit, pulling on soft, silk slippers over my feet. This type of treatment was humiliating, but it was such a nice change from holey rubber Converse and hard-denim skinny jeans. And for once, my hair was truly clean! Linda pulled me out of the chair and led me to a full length mirror.

Before I could look, she made me pull on a pair of elbow-length, white silk gloves. A strand of pearls was clasped around my neck – I was told the lady of the house insisted that I be treated like a queen. Thanks lady. It felt so odd to feel so feminine again, and I was mature enough not to mind wearing the corset or the dress. In all honesty, it felt good.

Linda turned me to look at the mirror…

…and I gasped.

The girl that met my reflection was not me. She was something out of Gone with the Wind. She did not look like she spent a single day working, or being clumsy. She looked like someone who hung on the arms of handsome gentlemen and spent her days playing the piano. This was not Alexandra 'Rio' Janeiro, it was Scarlett O'Hara reincarnate.

At least it was until I tripped over the hem of my skirt and almost fell into the mirror, trying to get a closer look.

No, this was still 'Miss Janeiro.'

I doubted that Vivien Leigh ever fell in a mirror.

* * *

Charlotte Forten was thrilled when she received news about the coming of the Fifty-Fourth. She was glad that her fellow African Americans would have a chance to prove themselves in war. In preparation for their arrival, she and her school students worked vigorously to learn 'My Country Tis of Thee' to perform in front of the officers at the Beaufort ball tonight.

Charlotte was not surprised by how well her students had mastered the song. They stood in slightly-crooked, chubby little rows with brown faces and opened mouths, and such expressions on their faces as if their singing was deciding the fate of the world. Charlotte smiled at them encouragingly, waving her right hand gracefully like an orchestra conductor.

"My country tis of thee…."

Charlotte left her family in Salem, after begging her father to allow her to join a teaching program created by Boston abolitionists, and here she was shown the much-craved respect by many white families and soldiers of the Union army. Of course, not all were too impressed with the prospect of a black teacher.

"…sweet land of liberty…."

One late afternoon, several black slaves along with their Confederate masters had broken into her school house, terrorizing the children and threatening to burn it down if she did not return to Massachusetts. A few hours later when she was riding home, the same group had stopped her again. Since that day, Miss Forten took to carrying a gun beneath her skirts at all times.

"…of thee I sing."

Charlotte eyed one of her most eccentric students, Shorty, one who always chattered through class and hardly ever practiced his penmanship. He had forgotten the words again, mouthing 'watermelon peach apple watermelon peach' repeatedly over and over again, something he always did during poem recitals because that particular set of words would fool anyone inexperienced lip-reader into believing he was saying the actual words.

"Land where my father died…"

Forten continued to wave her right hand gracefully into the air, all the while staring at her dumbfounded student.

"…land of the pilgrims pride…"

Shorty must have felt her attention, for his eyes darted to her.

"…from every mountainside…"

Charlotte knitted her shapely dark eyebrows together, and like magic, Shorty's lips began to produce the correct lyrics.

"…let freedom ring."

Charlotte dropped her hand gracefully, beaming proudly at her students. Applause fluttered through the air and some of the children bowed, their lips parting to reveal toothy grins. Charlotte was more than proud of them, and would have to congratulate them at the school house on Monday. She clapped too.

Well done.

* * *

Forbes stared dumbly at the flute of champagne in his white-gloved hand. He looked handsome and dashing – so said the mirror. He had cleaned up and shaved and brushed his hair, he even adorned a fresh, sophisticated blue suit, toping it off with wrist-length white gloves. But what good was it? Robert had all but nailed his feet to the bloody floor.

"Stay put!" He ordered, probably not wanting to look like a socially inept fool amidst the dancing couples, after all, misery loves company.

Forbes grumbled about it quite a bit, glancing longingly at the countless lovely ladies with sooty lashes and sultry pouting lips. But his mood lightened up considerably when they brought out the champagne. Forbes did not bother to keep his love for alcohol a secret, and it created quite the scandal back home in Boston.

For the first twenty dull minutes of the bloody ball, he, Charlie, and Robert stood in the corner motionless, like three fools who lost the ability to communicate. They were stared at oddly by wallflower women who were in want of a partner, and Forbes would have been more than happy to oblige had not his superior officer threatened a flogging should he leave.

Forbes knew that Robert's so-called 'threats' were seriously empty, he was never good at bribing, threatening, or manipulating – poor man – but it still annoyed him immensely. Charlie did not seem to mind – but hell, when did he ever mind? Fortunately, a few minutes later Robert was called for an introduction, and Forbes transferred from the glowing Chinese lanterns that danced in the wind to Robert's retreating back, smirking at it because he received a splendid idea.

Robert had told him not to leave, but fortunately, he failed to specify what location he and Charlie should remain at. They way Forbes saw it, eyeing the Colonel's unsuspecting back, he was free to roam about the ballroom as long as he did not leave the premises. How he loved finding loopholes in Robert's straightforward commands!

"Forbes?" The voice was feminine, soft - yet scratchy, and both he and Charlie turned around to gaze at the source.

A smiling young woman in a pale, buttery dress looked at them. Her dark hair was pinned up and in a large, curly mass atop her head, a few stray strands falling down the shoulder and towards – Forbes did not fail to notice – the pleasantly low neckline of the bodice of the sating evening gown.

Forbes bowed in politeness, wondering how she knew his name. "Good evening, madam." It was his 'perfect gentlemen' act, which Charlie knew about, who was smirking at him from the side.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Don't you dare say you don't recognize me, of all people."

Forbes' eyebrows almost touched his hairline. "Pardon? I – er – have we met?"

Charlie was almost laughing. The young woman smiled. "I should say so." She tossed a look at Charlie. "I know your deepest desire and your darkest fear." She laughed mockingly.

Forbes gripped the stem of the champagne flute, nervous. Charlie noticed and came to his rescue. "Forbes, it's Alex."

The woman – or Alex – laughed along with the captain, nodding her head. "Good God, Alex, is that really you?"

"You clean up nice, too, Forbes." She said, her tongue between her teeth.

"Alex, what have they done to you?" Forbes pretended to be fearful, and dizzy. He turned and grabbed Charlie's arm. "Quick, Charlie, we must get drunk immediately!"

* * *

Robert was not used to being around so much people, but he smiled and nodded at passing people – he even danced occasionally – though he must say that the best dancer in Beaufort was a lovely soft-spoken Jewish girl that let him lead instead of the other way around. Still, out of courtesy, he remained social and polite, even though his mind was on other, more serious things than champagne and ball gowns.

His hands were clasped behind his back, and he kept his eyes on the large group of colored children that were singing a hymn with earnest expressions on their round faces. Robert smiled softly, clapping when they finished their childlike version of 'My Country Tis of Thee' and turned away as the band resumed their waltz music.

"Splendid." Robert turned to the man beside him, General Harker, who had been positioned in these parts for several months now.

Harker had a cigar in his mouth, but he nodded in agreement, taking it out and blowing thick grey smoke into the night air before he spoke. "They've been working for weeks in anticipation for your arrival.

Robert smiled at that.

"We're all very excited to have you here, Shaw." The general added in a tone too flat to sound excited, dispassionately placing his cigar back in and pushing it into the corner of his mouth.

He must have noticed Robert's perplexed expression as he continued to gaze bemusedly at the class of colored children. "Lincoln's idea." He explained in disinterest. "Hired a group of New Englanders to teach our coloreds how to read and right." He turned his body slightly to glance at a colored woman who was smiling and speaking to a small group of white aristocrats. "Just your sort of people I should say." Harker pointed at him with the burning end of his cigar. "I insist on introducing you to one of them."

Rob bowed his head. "Thank you."

With a short nod, Harker turned away, staring at the glowing neighborhood of tan tents in the far off distance. "Your regiment should enjoy your stay here."

"Yes, I'm sure we'll have a fine time." Robert could feel Forbes smirking into his back from his post by the buffet table without turning around. He glanced up at the general's wrinkled face, pointedly ignoring the major. "But that's not why we're here."

Harker seemed to choke on the smoke, ripping the cigar out of his mouth and offering a few feeble laughs. "Yes, well. Can't promise you much action." He waved his cigar towards the tents in the distance. "Just having the coloreds around seemed to have scared the bejesus out of the Rebs." Again, he laughed anxiously.

Robert opened his mouth to protest when he was called away by a sharp shout of his name. "Colonel Shaw!"

"Excuse me." The general said from his side, eager to get away. They exchanged nods and he rushed off into the direction of the young African-American woman.

"I'd like you to meet some of our instructors." Robert's attention was snared by an old man with white hair whom he had spoken with not ten minutes ago. "Doctor Thorp, of Salem."

"My pleasure, Colonel." Thorp was short, but his words were precise and his handshake was strong, he behaved like a military man.

Robert smiled, returning the handshake. "Pleasure."

"And Doctor Rogers, of Philadelphia." Added the man who was assigned to make introductions at balls, also known as the Dance Instructor.

Doctor Rogers turned out to be a tall, thin man with small eyes and a large smile. "I know and admire your parents."

"You do, sir?" Robert grinned, for every child yearns to here of their mother and father when they're far from home. "Why, thank you, sir."

Out of the corner of his eye, Robert noticed the young Jewish woman that he danced with earlier, Madeline, standing behind Doctor Rogers who was no doubt her father, her gaze lowered submissively to the floor.

* * *

"Oh, good. They finally left him alone." Forbes grinned, reaching for my arm. He had been staring at Robert for ten minutes now, muttering something about how he'd better quit talking because he was getting impatient. "Now's your chance."

"What?" I asked, letting him lead me somewhere I would most likely regret.

"To Robert. He must see this." The corner of Forbes' mouth quirked up in amusement. "On ze double."

We ditched Charlie, and I had a sinking feeling as Forbes towed me to Robert, who by the way, looked hot. He was wearing that funky hat with the black feather curling downwards in the back. He was wearing a different uniform, still a deep, midnight blue, but with bright gold tassels hanging from the shoulders. He looked as elegant as Jude Law and as smart Dr. House, if not significantly less get-out-of-my-damned-wayish.

"Fix your face!" Forbes ordered suddenly.

Insulted, I let a hand fly to touch my cheek. "What, exactly, is wrong with my face?"

"The entire circulation." Forbes replied shortly. "Stop gaping at the man and put on a more intelligent expression!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Robert!" Forbes called out to him, and Matthew Broderick turned around.

He frowned when he saw Forbes. "I thought I told you to stay—"

But Forbes wasn't listening – shocker there – and had already cut him off, propelling me forward. "May I present, Miss Alexandra Janeiro."

* * *

Robert was confused. How could this woman be Miss Janeiro? Perhaps Forbes was drunk again and severely mistaken – but no. When Robert looked closer, he saw, that it was indeed his not-so-trusty aide de camp. He gaped at her, more in surprise than astonishment. How could a person undergo such a drastic change in so few hours?

"Miss Janeiro." He murmured, and reflexively, he reached out for one thin gloved hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

Wait a minute. People in the army do not kiss the hands of a person of lesser rank. That is simply unorthodox! That is beyond ridiculous, how could he just do that? In fact, why on earth was he proceeding to stand here returning her open-mouthed stare and not send her away to another errand? What was he thinking of in the first place?

Apparently, his mouth decided that today was a good day to stop listening to his ranting brain.

"Miss Janeiro," he stated suddenly, "would you like a dance?"

I'm sorry Robert, but could you please repeat that? Miss Janeiro has mentality issues that interfere with her non-existent ability to interpret conversation correctly.

I stared at him for so long, my mind processing the phrase he had so generously bestowed on me, that the invitation was growing cold. Robert looked at me oddly, as if my mind went for a walk and he was waiting for the 'beep' to leave a message.

I was suddenly afraid and very excited. I knew for a fact that I would embarrass myself, step all over his boots, and trip several times. But just the thought of dancing with Robert, like Dancing with the Stars, was all together exhilarating. I wasn't sure why though, as I watched him drop his outstretched hand, that accepting his dance request suddenly seemed very, very important.

I reached my hand out. No don't pull away!

"Colonel Shaw!" We both turned to see an ugly man with a goatee march to us with a gliding piece of arm candy.

Robert ignored me completely, and the way he angled his body away from mine, I knew that the moment was over. I ruined everything again.

"Yes, General Harker." He smiled pleasantly.

The man, Harker, immaculately dressed in a blue suit with gold tassles on his shoulders, presented the young woman on his arm, offering her hand to Robert. "Shaw, I'd like to present Miss Charlotte Forten."

I looked at her then, and at that first moment, something inside told me that this was by far not the last time I would see this woman.

She was beautiful, naturally. Warm brown eyes, high cheek bones, and a slim, willowy figure served to enhance her prettiness. She wore a lacy dress of ivory eyelet, which was both modest and elegant. Her hair was curled into a series of ringlets, and her ultra-white smile would bring Whitney Houston to shame. But the most striking feature about her that completely distinguished her from the other dancing women was that her skin color was not pale – she was African American.

I wondered how she must feel in such a racist society.

If she caught me staring, or even noticed my presence at all, she didn't show it, and smiled generously when she extended her hand for Robert to salute with his lips.

The awkward and dim-witted…yep that's me…were forgotten for the time being, and I took several steps back as I watched Robert and Beyonce being incircled by a small group of officers.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, nor should I have cared, but I couldn't help but feel a little rejected, and an unwavering feeling of loss hung over my head, like something was stolen from me.

Ridic, right?

I started to walk away, but I was grabbed by my wrist and tugged away from the crowd to the buffet table. Irritated with life, I turned around, ready to fight, (ha! More like beg for them to leave me alone and let me nurse my wounds in peace) the offender.

The person I saw almost knocked me off my feet without so much as lifting a finger.

Oh heeeelllll to the no. I am so dead, someone needs to call the Soviet Union.

I struggled to stay composed.

* * *

**Sorry if this chapter was a disappointment – which it most certainly was – but if it's any conciliation, the next chapter shall include drinking, dancing, banter, jealousy, and Marty! Hang in there. ****J**

**Thank you so much! :)**


	42. Just Enough

**Dear Fanfiction,**

**The prodigal author returns…once again.**

**Can I just start off by saying how much I miss you? (My, how you've grown!) I know this hasn't been updated since like…JFK was president but as part of my New Year's Resolutions, I decided that I will finally go out on a hot date with my Glory DVD (because let's face it, that movie's way too cool for Netflix) and write something mildly worthy of your attention. And then I fell in love with it again, and used up two boxes of tissues while watching this. Oh no, this story's not dead. University be damned. This is my childhood, and I will write this thing until I'm bloody well finished with it.**

**This I vow.**

**So, if you, my dear readers, will agree to forgive me for the billionth time (or let me wallow in my own lethargy) then we will continue to blaze this trail.**

**I miss this, really very much.**

**And also, thank you still for those of you who keep checking on me, it's beyond sweet. Due to the enormous jumble of reviews I have, I won't be able to respond to them on *this* chapter update, but I will resume my post on the following (I hope to update as often as your favorite TV show) chapter. **

**Blame it on big kid school, guys.**

**Thank you all so much, and, welcome back. :)**

**With Love,**

**S**

* * *

I turned around only _after_ I bumped into the buffet table thatwas layered with extravagant meats and cheeses, cakes, and fragile creampuffs. I knew exactly who it was, and I didn't have to keep my eyes on him to know that the person whose hand rested on my shoulder was not entirely pleased with me.

I suddenly became fascinated with the floor, avoiding his eyes, like a kid squirming in front of the principle. I tugged subconsciously on the ribbon Robert gave me eons ago.

"Hey, Marty."

Marty was pinching the bridge of his nose and staring at me with a semi-vacant expression. Yeah. That's all he did.

He stared.

And he stared.

And then he stared some more.

Finally, finally –

He stared.

"Alex." He said when he finally _did_ open his mouth. "What are you doing?"

I leaned back against the table, resisting the urge to stuff my face with chocolate creampuffs. "It's nice to see you, Marty! Why yes, I'm fine, thank you! How have you been, good? That's great to hear."

He made a face.

"I'm sorry." He said uninterestedly, as if waking up from a trance. I noticed he was wearing a dark brown suit. "I never ask those questions anymore. We know exactly how you've been doing. Every damn breath you take is monitored."

I'm sure Oprah would have a thing or two to say about such stalker-ness. "Uh-huh."

He ignored me. "And I've got some good news for you, _Rio_."

His tone was very flat, and something about the way he delivered that line made me nervous.

"You clean up nice, by the way." He added, beckoning at my ball gown with a insultingly surprised raise of his eyebrows.

I realized he didn't really want to give me the said 'good news' and was trying to prolong the process with a compliment.

"Thanks. You too."

But, unfortunately, duty calls.

"Alex, I came to take you home." He said bluntly.

What? I must have misheard him, and I shook my head to show that I didn't understand. Obviously.

He no longer avoided my eyes. "It's time to go back to the future."

"Why?" Denial, but, this really can't be happening. He doesn't get it; I think I…I _know _like it here, why would they want to take me back? I was doing so well. "I don't…I don't understand."

"You've been here long enough." He shrugged in a manner that seemed almost cold, and very out of character. "We've gotta go, alright?"

It wasn't a suggestion.

Why was it that everyone wanted me to be somewhere else? First Robert, and now Future Boy?! I wanted to stay – _badly_, and even though I managed to persuade Rob, how could I challenge someone with the ability to control time?

"I don't see what for." I raised my chin in the air, gripping the edge of the table with my gloved fingers. "Everything was going fine; I had it all under control."

Marty snorted. "_Control_?! Alex, I don't understand you. When I first brought you here, the first thing you told me was that you wanted out." He reached into his velvet jacket and produced a silver pocket watch. "I'm giving you what you wanted."

"You can't take me back." I shook my head violently, feeling all of Niamh's ironwork curls shaking out on my shoulders. The small orchestra was playing a familiar Mozart, and I was glad that the sound of violins, voices, and skirts dancing was muffling us. We were getting pretty loud. "If you touch me, Marty, I swear to God I'll scream."

I was fighting every way I could. It felt like he was my jailer, dragging me back to the Hole in Alcatraz while I screamed and howled, my fingernails leaving marks on the floor.

"I don't need to touch you, Alex. All I have to do is push a button." He opened the pocket watch and instead of an actual watch, there was a small red button in the center. "We'd both just disappear."

I wasn't the smartest person in the world, but I wasn't the biggest idiot ever born. "What about Robert, and Forbes, and them? What would they think if I suddenly vanished?" I snapped my fingers for effect.

He sighed, as if it were too obvious to explain, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "They'd have no memory of you." Something in my face must have startled him, for he added. "Why do you want to say, Alex? Huh? What's the point?"

I was quivering all over, and the whites of my eyes turned red in distress. "The _point?!_ You tell _me_, Marty. What was the point of you bringing me here in the first place? There must have been a reason! And don't start with all that 'appreciating history' bullshit."

Marty handed me a handkerchief and led me out of the glow of the Chinese party lanterns.

He sighed, watching me calmly. "Listen kid, you can't be here anymore. It's no longer safe. You could get hurt-"

"I can take care of myself!" I shouted a little dissatisfied with the use of the cliché. We were receding further away from the party. I wanted to throw something stronger at him, _make_ him understand.

I thought about Robert. "I'll be fine without you."

"You're screwing things up, all right!" He ran his hands through his hair, combing it with his fury. "You and your constant trip-overs and pathetic little ideas that you're in love with a Civil War Hero."

I watched him, recoiled.

"You can't mess around here. This isn't a game, Alex. This is _real_ history. The slightest little detail can affect the entire time course. _You're_ that detail, don't you see?" He stopped pacing and looked at me, "the fact is, before we inserted you into the time frame, that day when you came to the Shaw mansion after the parade, Robert was supposed to go alone. He was supposed to propose to his future wife – to Annie."

*Author's note: That's not true; the real Robert Gould Shaw chickened out and proposed through a letter long before the parade. I just tweaked it a little because it fits.*

I felt dizzy.

Everywhere we are, no matter what's going on, something bad always has to sneak up and bite you. Why? Who can explain this cruel phenomenon?

I was crying freely now and Marty looked like he was in painful discomfort from watching me.

"I don't want to go back." I made a rather unflattering noise when I blew into Marty's custom-embroidered-by-his-grandma handkerchief.

"I know."

No, he didn't know. It wasn't just a whim of mine; I needed him to understand that. He _had_ to. "No, you don't understand. Robert…I…"

He held up a hand. "I know how you feel. You don't have to tell me. We all saw the signs. We just thought it was typical looks-only and that'd be easy to fix." We sat down on the ground, in the grass, in the dark. "I'm sorry we let this go too far. We made a mistake, and we're thinking of closing the time travel program altogether."

That is such a stupid idea, but I'm bitter.

My skirt was probably ruined now, but I didn't care. "Don't you see? I _can't_ go back."

"Alex." He said softly, looking at the sky. I can't tell you how huge the stars really are without the presence of city lights. "Remember what I told you on the first day you got here? How old Robert was when he…"

I must admit that I haven't thought of that since that day. Irresponsible as I am, I haven't thought about what was coming at all. I couldn't remember, but something, somehow, on some beach somewhere – was going to happen. Something really bad. Why couldn't I remember?

"Don't say it!" I covered my ears. "I know what you're thinking. Don't speak at all. I don't want to hear it. No! no! no! no!"

I thrashed my legs, too, like a three year-old throwing a tantrum. But in reality, it was me trying to stamp out the feeling of dread towards the inevitable.

Thankfully, he abided to my request, appeasing my wounded self, but it didn't keep him from talking about 'it.' "What do you hope to gain by staying here? It's going to happen. It's going to happen whether you like it or not. I'm taking you out early so you wouldn't have to see it."

"I don't know yet." Such a simple answer, but it was honest. "But I'll figure out what to do. I won't let 'it' happen," even though I _know_ it's impossible.

A loud sigh came from his spot in the darkness.

"Marty?"

"What?"

"The future is better off without me."

He chuckled wryly, as if he knew something that I didn't, but refused to say anything.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't even think about it." He retorted. "It's not healthy for one to know too much of their own future, if that's one thing I learned from Doc it's that. _Great Scott."_ He quoted.

"This is heavy."

I could feel him smile in the dark at my use of his catchphrase.

"Can't I at least _tell_ them?" I asked. "People are smart. They can handle this."

"No!" He barked suddenly. "A _person_ is smart, people are dumb, panicking animals."

"So that's a 'no' to the 'Hey, I'm from the future' idea?"

I think he rolled his eyes.

"Alex. Eight hundred years ago, people _knew_ that the earth was the center of the universe." He had that 'history channel narrator' tone of voice. I watched his dimly-lit profile quizzically. "Six hundred years ago, people _knew_ the earth was flat." I watched the stars, cold, like diamonds. "Until several months ago, _you knew_ that time travel was impossible. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow, or the day after that."

"Where are you going with this?" I asked saying.

A rustle of fabric. "What I'm saying is you shouldn't trust what you know." It was a hint, I know, but why was he throwing it at me if he wanted to take me back?

"What are you talking about?"

"Ft. Wagner, you fool." His impatience to my apparent dimwittedness was beginning to show. "July 18, 1863."

Mission Impossible wasn't that far off. I held my breath until my lungs burned. "Does this mean you'll let me stay?"

"Doc is gonna kill me…"

What?

"Do I have a choice, Alex? I'll talk to my boss; I'll let you play your game. I really should just haul you back kicking and screaming. I shouldn't do this, especially with you." He paused, and I sensed him pinch the bridge of his nose. "Just remember, we can't change the past, but we can prevent the future."

He looked at me. "_Try_ to stay outta trouble, kid."

Reaching out blindly, I threw my arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you…"

He patted my back, awkwardly. "Come on." He said, standing up and pulling me off the ground. "They'll be missing you."

I let him walk me back to the party, my hand resting on the crook of his arm. We formed a truce, and I relaxed, finally able to breathe despite the corset. I won the argument. I loved Marty, then. He could have materialized me back to the 21rst century and I'd think it was all a dream.

I wouldn't even notice.

That thought made me sad and cold.

But I had more pressing matters in my head. The 'It' we were talking about. Robert wasn't going to live forever, though he should. And what was it that Marty was saying about 'altering history?', 'preventing futures?' Followed shortly thereafter by a subtle comment that it wasn't impossible to prevent the tragedy from happening?

I searched for Robert, watching him speak with another officer, as if making sure that he was still alive and breathing.

I didn't know why I cared that much, it was beyond ridiculous. But I would never fight off that burning urge to run for him, because I didn't know how – _yet_ – but I was going to stop the 'It' from happening.

Marty tugged on my arm, and before I knew it, he was pulling me in the direction of Colonel Robert Gould Shaw.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He smiled. "You should introduce me; I always wanted to meet Shaw."

Forbes and Charlie were standing a little ways behind Robert and his Groupies. Said colonel was standing next to a man who seriously needed to rethink the length of his sideburns, he waved a fat cigar in the air and talked about stuff that nobody cared about, stuff like Washington DC and the latest hair pomade from France. But Robert's eyes seemed lit with interest, and they grew brighter when the man started talking about the ratio of supplies-to-men. Of course everyone knows how much Robert likes them supplies, judging by a little hush-hush incident with the quartermaster a whiles ago.

God, I love Americans.

Forbes arched an inquiring eyebrow at Marty, and hitting Charlie's arm, they both approached the circle.

Showing the apparent respect my sex demanded, the men hushed and nodded at me. Their eyes dwelled on me for a fraction of a second, and then were fastened on Marty, curiously. That was when I noticed Charlotte again, and I was surprised to find her participating in the small circle of politics.

"Colonel, I'd like to introduce a friend of mine." I began. "His name is…"

"Eastwood." Marty said. "_Clint_ Eastwood."

I stared at him. He purposely didn't look back at me, but it was clear he was having fun.

Robert smiled cordially at him. "Robert Gould Shaw, Mr. Eastwood." He shook his hand. Marty or Clint or whatever proceeded to shake the hands of the other fancy officers in the circle, and he gallantly kissed the one of Charlotte.

Charlotte smiled at Mr. Eastwood and the young woman beside him. She wondered if perhaps she was the man's wife, or the Colonel's wife, judging by how familiarly she spoke to him. Charlotte, being in her nature to keep prudency and not jump to conclusions, waited for conversation to advance and unveil some of the mystery.

"Mr. Eastwood, we were just discussing unequal quartermaster antics…"

* * *

Charlotte had a very charming air about herself, and admittedly, she had occasionally relied on it for support from powerful men. In this day and age, the law was not on the woman's side, the man was the head of everything. It disgusted Charlotte, but she liked to imagine herself as the neck, one who could turn the head any which way she liked.

"Colonel Shaw," she touched his arm, "you promised to share your opinion on the South's educational availability for colored children."

His shyness was evident, and Charlotte was sure that her hand's presence on his arm was causing some level of discomfort. She removed it, and suddenly, he could speak again. "Miss Forten is actually a brilliant school teacher for the emancipated children." He said to the circle.

She smiled at him. "We do our best to teach them well."

* * *

Forbes was getting bored with this conversation already. Tedious was the word to describe it, and very Rob-ish, for it was exactly like him to talk about war and education at parties which – in case the man was not aware of - were supposed to be fun and happy.

His sole source of amusement however, was watching his friend squirm under Miss Forten's encouraging gaze. For as long as Forbes knew him, Rob was never any good with women; they had a knack for disarming him which made him feel insecure without a shield. Apparently Miss Forten was no different to him. Forbes had a slight, underlying feeling that Robert would probably feel more comfortable in front of a cannon than the Forten woman's charming smile.

Alex shifted next to him, making Forbes take another swallow of champagne to hide the chuckle that wanted to break past the barrier of his lips.

She was looking at Miss Forten with a face just as nervous as Robert's, and her eyes kept jumping between the two. She tugged on her gloves continuously and Forbes was afraid that if she chewed on her lip anymore she might eat it.

He wasn't a fool, as much as Charlie liked to believe he was, and knew Jealousy when he saw her. Jealousy was such a nagging mistress, and he himself had entertained her when on occasion his precious Susannah would bestow her charms on other men. Forbes could see that Jealousy wanted to be friends with Alex, and he had to shoo her away before she consumed her in her bad company.

"Miss Janeiro." He winked. "Might I persuade you to a dance?"

Alex stared at him. "What for?"

The others were talking about laws now. Fascinating.

Forbes blinked. "Usually the answer is yes or no; I suppose I'll pick one myself since you haven't provided me with anything else."

"Excuse us." He said loudly, to the group, nodding at the Eastwood character and bowing out.

He wasn't surprised that Eastwood did the same, but he _was_ surprised when he paused in front of Alex.

"Can I talk to you again, please?" Eastwood asked her, and perhaps it was Forbes' imagination but he felt like Eastwood's speech sounded out of place, like it was from somewhere far away.

Alex glanced back at Forbes and then followed Eastwood a few feet away.

Bored, Forbes watched him talk and Alex nod repeatedly, but only with mild interest, until he was suddenly fascinated by his champagne glass. The pull to it was amazing, and he watched the yellow bubbles fizz around like it was water from the Fountain of Youth.

Movement made him look up. They were still talking. Eastwood was staring intently at his pocket watch.

Forbes blinked out an eyelash and wanted to shoot a look of impatience at them but only managed one of surprise.

Eastwood had vanished.

He was there one second before and was now gone. Like he evaporated. Forbes did not see him walking away or blending into the crowd at all.

But then he remembered to be rational, and turned his attention back to more interesting matters, such as his drink, and shrugged the world away.

It was probably just too much champagne.

* * *

I turned away from the spot where Marty had just vanished from, with the touch of his 'easy button.' He practically begged me to be careful, and I promised, knowing without asking that his job was probably on the line for me.

And honestly, I'm not the best person to place your trust in.

I sighed, but Forbes' expression caught my attention, and I felt my eyes widen in response to his perplexed stare.

Oh. My. God.

He was looking at me like a muggle might look at a wizard.

He couldn't have seen that, could he?

Okay, Alex, you gotta be calm. Find some logical way to explain how "Clint Eastwood" could possibly have vanished on the spot.

That's the thing though; I was never any good with the Dark Arts of Logic and Reason.

I tried to steady my breathing, so I would look all airy, you know? (The corset wasn't helping.) But my feet did not want to move as I forced them back to Forbes, who was now frowning at his champagne.

I stopped.

Was it possible that he could have completely missed all that?

"So are we gonna dance or what?" I tried not to make my voice sound shaky or suspicious.

He raised an eyebrow slowly. "Ye-es."

Abandoning his flute on a nearby buffet table, he led me out onto the dance floor.

"You know, it's something unusual when you – of all people – suddenly aqueous to a dancing proposal." He said, as we spun.

I swallowed, voice high. "I guess there's gonna be a mile a rain tonight."

He laughed.

The tension immediately loosened, and a sweet sense of relief filled me.

If he was joking, he didn't notice, I was sure of it.

The peace didn't last long, however, because first thing I did to kill the security was accidently step on his foot.

He winced. "Ah yes, why break the tradition?"

"Sorry."

"No matter," he muttered. "These were a bit large anyway. The swelling should help them fit better."

I looked at Forbes then, I mean_, really looked at him_, and tried to imagine living in a world where the only way I would be able to see him every day would be through a few lines in a dusty history book.

It was a little hard to swallow. "Forbes, you're the best friend I ever had."

He smirked. "What favor do you need?"

I shook my head, imagining Marty's evil red button, my worst enemy, which could have deprived me of people like Forbes and Charlie and Rawlins…and…Robert. These subjects of text books that so easily turned to some of the most valuable people I've had the luck to ever meet. "I mean it Forbes…you really are…something."

Expecting another smirk, he shocked me with a small smile, "that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me Alex."

And it was almost enough to make me not care about how close Robert and Charlotte were standing to each other, visible over Forbes' shoulder.

* * *

One by one, the conversational crowd dissipated, losing one of its members every few minutes until it was only Robert and Charlotte left together.

However, despite his insecurities, Robert was surprised to find himself not dreading every second he spent in Miss Forten's company. In fact, she put him at ease by fascinating him. She was lovely and her words were intelligent. He saw in her a kindred spirit, a woman who wanted to argue – not flirt with him- and he found himself comfortable enough to counter her statements as well as happy enough to honestly agree with them.

"It _is_ dangerous here, of course." She was saying.

Her voice was nice too. Not too soft, like Annie's, who spoke quietly on purpose so people would lean towards her, or scratchy like Miss Janeiro's, who on occasion still irritated him. Charlotte's – _Miss Forten's_ – was eloquent, sincere, and clear.

"I imagine it's difficult." He replied.

She nodded. "Especially for a colored woman. The Southerners are bitter at being conquered. They are furious at Massachusetts' for trying to educate the children of their former slaves. I believe education is a universal human right."

"I agree whole heartedly." He replied, smiling down at her, unaware of how dashing he looked to her with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Your wife must have been worried about you." She said gently, "to have followed you down here…you're lucky to have her with you."

Robert frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

Charlotte looked just as confused as he felt. "The young lady," she inclined her head delicately towards Miss Janeiro, who was engaged in an awkward waltz with Cabot, both laughing at each other as if every movement was some kind of a prank. "The one who came with you this evening."

Robert only just remembered that Miss Janeiro still existed; he had been so engrossed with Charlotte. "Do you mean _Miss Janeiro_?" He shook his head fervently, as if he was explaining this to himself rather than to this spell-binding woman. "Goodness, no. She is simply my aide-de-camp."

Charlotte smiled at him, and Robert was too enraptured to realize how he sounded when he said Miss Janeiro's name, like it tasted bad. Dismissing her from his mind much like how he dismissed her from her duties.

But Charlotte had put him in such high spirits that he hardly minded that Harker was coming back, swooping down on them with his lemon-shaped head, a shorter, lighter man swaggering beside him.

"Shaw!" He shouted, like they were fellow schoolboys. "Meet Colonel Montgomery, brigade commander."

"Colonel." The man said, and Robert smiled pleasantly as they shook hands.

"Honored, sir."

Harker spoke again. "Colonel Montgomery is a real jay-hawker from Kansas; contraband regiment is his Brain-Child."

Robert nodded slowly. There was something about Montgomery that gave off a negative vibe, something, yet Robert could not see what exactly it was. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Charlotte visibly stiffen as Montgomery nodded at her.

"You didn't think yours were the only coloreds around, didja Colonel?" Montgomery's mustache seemed to move for his lips.

"I did, actually." He replied. _And still do, the only ones who volunteered on their own accord, anyway_.

"Well I'm sure they'll do just fine." Said the crimson-haired man with a jerk of his chin. "Have they seen any…_mischief_?"

He did not really ask it, more like said it, as if he was sure of the answer.

Robert's gave a sharp shake of his head. "No sir."

For the first time, Montgomery's lips pulled back in a smile. As if he'd believe that when he's seen it. "I'm hiking a company over the Georgia coast in the morning."

Robert cocked his head, cautious, the black plume of his hat tumbling forward.

"We'll be foraging for supplies, I could use a hand." His eyes were sincere enough for Robert to be lured into a sense of ease that proved to be false. "That is…if you think that you're men are up to it."

Robert's only hesitation in responding was the jab of indignation that made him bite the inside of his cheek. "They are _indeed_, Sir."

"Good, very good!" He jerked Robert into another hand-pumping shake. "A pleasure!"

Robert's mood lifted again. "Good night."

"I'll have my secretary pass the details along momentarily." He replied, and bowed out.

Robert felt himself grin. He knew exactly what this meant. All those endless days of drilling, marching, practicing, worrying – they were finally ending. The Fifty-Fourth was no longer just a decoration for the Washington cats to feel better about their prejudices; the Fifty-Fourth was…

…useful.

He grinned at Charlotte, but her return smile was only half-hearted, and she stared at Montgomery's retreating back as if she could erase him from existence by blinking.

Robert did not have time to worry, because the familiar voice of Thomas stole him away.

"Beg-to-report-Colonel-Sir." He chanted, and Robert couldn't help but feel proud when he turned to see his old friend, saluting him, straight and tall and honorable.

Thank God for Mulcahy.

Robert returned the salute.

"The troop is fed and bedded down for the night, Sir."

"Very good, Corporal." Robert felt like a child, trying to restrain his excitement from tainting his professionalism. "Pass the word down to A Company, we'll be going into action in the morning."

Thomas, however, was more inept at hiding his infectious grin, "Very good, Sir."

Before Robert could dismiss him, the lemon-headed Harker tapped his shoulder, sliding a yellow envelope into his hand. "From Montgomery's secretary, details of tomorrow."

With Charlotte standing there, Robert knew it would be rude to open them now, and was resigned to wait like a child until Christmas morning.

His already hard-fought-for attention was grabbed by someone else again, this time, Miss Janeiro's scratchy laughter, her hand looped through Forbes' arm as he drawled something about her 'incredible talent in dance.'

Surrounded by all these people, and the hot envelope he was holding, Robert remembered that he was a Colonel first, and should act like one despite his ball-like surroundings, and perhaps it was time for his major and his aide to resume their duties as well.

"Miss Janeiro," He said, with a clear of his throat.

Her smile dissolved at the tone of his voice, and it was with great difficulty that Robert handed her the envelope of instructions. "Please see to it that this finds its place in my office." He said, knowing full well that 'office' was just a connotation for 'tent', but Charlotte was standing just a foot away.

Miss Janeiro nodded, putting the envelope loosely under her arm.

Robert blinked at her. "_Now_. Please."

She looked a little taken aback, and her gaze jumped from each member of the group.

"Corporal Searles will escort you back to camp." He muttered, nodding at Thomas. "And there's no need to return." They had a hike tomorrow, what good would it do to her if she was half asleep during it?

Miss Janeiro's face heated up, and Forbes gave Robert an ugly look, as if he'd done something…mean.

Robert opened his mouth to d

ismiss them but Miss Janeiro beat him too it, spinning away before he could issue the order, her buttery skirts hitting his legs as she walked away.

The crowd left again, until it was just him and Charlotte.

He looked at her, dazed, and she returned his gaze with some amusement.

The words came from his mouth before his brain even approved of them. "Miss Forten…may I offer you this dance?"

* * *

My face burned, and I was glad that the air grew cooler and the night darker the further Thomas and I marched from that horrible party.

I held the envelope to my chest, occasionally stepping on my skirts or catching it on a twig. If it hadn't been ruined when I came here with Marty, it was definitely worse for wear now.

The Chinese lanterns and the boring music were fading in the background, and the firelights of Camp A were slowly coming into view.

"Did you enjoy the party, Miss Janeiro?" Thomas asked, abruptly. "Erm…_Alex_."

I bit my lip. "Sure, uh, the colonel seemed to be enjoying himself too, don't you think?"

Ugh. Robert.

Damn him.

And damn her.

Why make me come if you're going to publicly dismiss me afterwards? Like he'd made a nonchalant mistake and it was all reversible. Like he was a teacher catching his student sneaking out of class.

Him and his stupid bowtie and his yellow tassels and his funky hat.

Thomas sighed. "Robert is more of a…_introverted_ person."

I snorted. "Yeah well he seemed to be _introverting_ towards that woman."

Thomas frowned. "_What?_"

We reached the base of the camp. "I'm sorry Thomas, it's nothing, forget what I said." I clutched my forehead dramatically. "I'm just exhausted." I touched his arm. "Good night."

He smiled and bowed gallantly, before marching away into the opposite direction.

I turned right, knowing exactly where the colonel's stupid tent was.

I suddenly felt stupid walking around camp in this Belle-like dress. I closed my eyes and moaned in embarrassment. The way Robert talked to me and the way he looked at her. Was I really that much of a bother? He spoke to her as if she was a lady, but to me, like I was a boy.

_A boy_.

Did all this time seeing me in jeans and a kepi make him forget that I had two x chromosomes, thank you?

I sighed, pushing through the flap of his tent.

Stumbling around I found the gas lantern and brought it to life. The room was thrown into a sudden yellow glow.

On his desk, papers were scattered about in a disorganized mess, much too out of character for Rob.

I was about to toss his damn envelope vengefully on the desk when something caught my eye.

_This_ particular paper had so much ink stains it was equally uncharacteristic for Robert, who always wrote with few mistakes, dedication, and precision.

Setting the envelope down, I drew closer to it, picked it up, and squinted at it in the light.

My name was scrawled in repeated lines in a familiar script, and then hastily crossed out.

I frowned at it, wondering what Andrews' hit list was doing on Robert's desk, and then made the mistake of turning it over.

I'm not in love with her.

I'm not in love with her.

I'm not in love with her.

_What?_ Maybe there was some kind of hidden meaning in these words…maybe I should have noticed it…but all I could think of was this:

These lines were circled, spotless, so unmistakably…

…_Robert_.

And then at the very bottom of the page, in one neat row:

_Janeiro is just an aid to the Fifty Fourth Massachusetts Infantry_.

That word, _just_, was the ugliest I've ever heard of, and I felt a fresh wave and humiliation rise, blocking my throat.

Just. You are a just, Alex. A just.

I laid it on top of the envelope, face up, to make sure he'd see it, and left the room, without so much as bothering to extinguish the gas lamp.

Then I marched straight back to that party, despite his orders, and did not slow my pace until I could see the faces on the dance floor clearly, and two of them belonged to Robert and Charlotte.

I wasn't sure what exactly I was meaning to do, but I winced when I saw them smiling at each other, twirling gracefully, and remembered how he had asked me to dance, an hour ago, but we didn't get a chance.

My stomach hurt, it was just the corset, I'm sure.

But still, was I this easily forgettable?

Then again, what did I expect? That we'd all laugh and joke and do Gangnam Style together on the dancefloor?

I saw him laugh with her, and backed away, back into the night, aiming to walk around the entire function to the other side of the mansion, and return the dress and the hair pieces and the gloves.

Because all this…girlishness…this finery…this 'new-me-ness' was obviously _just_ not good enough for him.

* * *

**Welcome back. :)**

**I'm also editing the former chapters by the way, because let's be honest, ew.**


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